“I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. ‘C’est ridicule. ’ ‘I didn’t bring him,’ Gerald returned swiftly. The beach: to get there as quickly as he could, to reach the white man's nadir of abasement and gather the promise of that soothing indifference which comes with the final disintegration of the fibres of conscience. I wonder if he really wants me to go home.
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