We are very poor, but manage to squeeze a little happiness out of each day. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. 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. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough between half the men and women in London.
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