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. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. The effects of the heroin wore off slowly. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now.
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