Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring
over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. If only this man had
been her father! The world would have meant nothing; the island would have
been wide enough. To have spoken lightly on such a subject a few
hours ago would have seemed incredible. His blood would be sweet with 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. “You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless
world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want
things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing
happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames
Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 28-06-2024 13:31:49