‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration. “It is just six o’clock now. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. Anyhow, it were me as got you down to the wetnurse. 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. Sheppard's weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended.
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