He insisted once again on opening the car door for her. Plote was sleeping or deaf. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod. What a God-forsaken fool he was! And dimly, out there somewhere in the South Seas—the beach! Already he sensed the fascination of the inevitable; and with this fascination came the idea of haste, to get there quickly and have done.
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