" "You are mocking me, Rowland. He is a knight. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. 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. Or had you not noticed?’ He sneered. ’ A laugh escaped her. White said.
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