There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. I was worried. 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. Gosse twisted his body to avoid another thrust, and the heavy candlesticks fell, rolling with a noise like thunder, and falling with a thud to the floor. The lines about his mouth gradually softened. Unless we can get some optimism into him, he'll probably start this all over again when he gets on his feet. The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road. But days had now passed. " "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night.
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