The curtains in the windows were of a thick heavy material. The carpet was of the deepest shag. And there were numerous books on bookshelves all aroun... the room. Some were in languages that Nathan didn't recognize. They couldn't miss the cream colored plush furniture, matching the carpet, all around the room.Startling them out of their wonder, their guide asked them to take seat on a large couch that was about ten to fifteen feet away from a single chair that faced it that had two coffee tables. How did she feel about it? The confident smirk she gave him as she came out of the change room seemed to say it all.They talked more on the bus ride back to campus. Manjula had grown up in a desperately poor village in Sri Lanka’s Mullaitivu District. Her parents had been killed in the massacre that ended the civil war ten years before. She’d moved in with her aunt and uncle. Their house had been destroyed in the war, and they’d built a bamboo-mud hut with their own hands. It only had one room,. More

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