“Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!…. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. " "No. \"Hi Missy, have you met Lucy Albert?\" Lucy contrived a smile. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. She wanted to be alone.
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