Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt. 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. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession.
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