As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. But Gerald kept to a casual note. ‘And me, I am a lady. ‘As I have said, it was a quarrel between the vicomte and Monsieur Charvill. 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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