. ’ Jack stepped out, and pushed the door to. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. 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. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. 2.
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