It had been her home for hundreds of years. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. . 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 miss him when he was gone during the day and cherish the quiet times he spent only with her.
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