p 7 , THEIR ferryboat was turning into the river Chao Phraya when Phloi’s mother said to her, “Pay attention to what I’m saying, Phloi.
When the time comes for you to take a husband, make sure you find one with a single heart. Keep away from the great lover who must
have many wives about him, or you will suffer like your mother.” A short pause followed before the advice was concluded. “And you
must never become any man’s minor wife. ^แม่พลอยเป็น minor wife ?
Never. Do you hear?”
Phloi heard and, duty done, peered- จ้องมอง out from under the awning – กันสาด at life on the Chao Phraya. There were boats, floats, houses and
people—and sky and flowing water, like on their khlong, Khlong Bang Luang, which they had left behind only moments ago. คลองบางหลวง ถูก left เพราะอะไร ?
And yet, /
how different! So much more of everything out here on the river—boats, houses, people, water. Everything larger, merrier, moving
brightly along in every direction, looking, sounding, smelling altogether new. A born-and-bred khlong child having her first taste of the
open river, Phloi took it all in and was more excited than she could say. Stealing a glance at Mother, she said nothing. This was the first
time Phloi had travelled so far from home. Her mother had told her they were never going back there, never set foot on the old landing
again, that they had left it forever, unto death.