But she doesn’t and won’t divorce me. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. Now, Sir. The beachcomber, the lowest in the human scale; and some day he would enter into this estate. 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.
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