It was a society column about the richest men in the world and their lavish parties. She liked the animated eagerness of his manner. 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 began to feel odd sensations while peering busily at his shoulder and profile. “Nothing. It was a clear, lovely, October morning.
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