“Dear friend,” she said, “do you not think that you are breaking an unspoken compact? I am very sorry. 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. There was no answer. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. Frequently she would doze in her chair; but the slightest movement on the bed aroused her.
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