She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it. I'm a bit daffy about music.
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