‘So I shall do so. Sudden indignation boiled up in him. Ennison?” Sir John hesitated. I don’t care if you’re not a virgin, that’s not how I really am. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then. “Of course I will,” he answered. 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. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock.
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