I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. ’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. It makes wonderful sentences that you can repeat in the City and are good enough for Punch. ‘Let’s see now. 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. Rage flooded her at his intent, but she controlled it.
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