He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. ’ Melusine turned, an irrepressible giggle escaping her lips as she thought of the Mother Abbess in the convent at Blaye. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. He had just passed through a terrific physical test. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. 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. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo.
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