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207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. “Listen,” she said. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. Practically. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. Goopes when at home dressed simply in a pajama-shaped suit of canvas sacking tied with brown ribbons, while his wife wore a purple djibbah with a richly embroidered yoke. What I do know I shall have no hesitation in telling anyone who has the right to ask. ‘I try to be.
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