She had become unashamed of her nudity, altogether unfocused on her appearance. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. Anybody in pain had only to call to him. Auntie has taken the nails out of my palms, but the scars will always be there. It was, in a way, something of a joke to the doctor: psychology and physiognomy on an island which white folks did not visit more than three or four times a year, only then when they had to.
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