Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. Anna failed in her painting, our money was gone, and she was forced to earn her own living. It was drafty and cold most of the time, but she found that she was not nearly as sensitive to the cold as long as he was 99 there to warm her up. 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. Wood's present position, and subsequent proceedings fully intelligible, it may be necessary to give some notion of the shape and structure of the platform on which he had taken refuge. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. Wood started to his feet. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. ‘No mistaking you this time. Aren't we funny? And just as I was beginning to lose faith in human beings, to have someone like this come along! It is almost as if she were acting a rôle, and she isn't. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself.
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