” “Well, you can’t say you’re a failure there,” Lady Lescelles remarked, smiling. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. "Surely," she said, after a pause, "you don't attach any importance to what my mother has just said. "You don't recollect me, I presume?" premised the stranger, taking a seat. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. She fell into a pleasant dream of positions and work. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. 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. I want to get away—to go to London.
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