The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. 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. It was his purpose to complete four or five stories before he sent any away. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly.
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