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. “Yes,” she said, “that is what we ought to do. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose.
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