Gerald’s chest tightened. They are used to me, they only cry because they have become so used to being here. Without a word, without a sign, Enschede started toward the beach, where his proa waited. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. He had been reading Belfort Bax, and declared himself a convert.
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