She became angry with herself. Wood resounded from below. Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. ” “I can’t go back to the Beck’s ever again. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. As the palm bears nuts perennially, there were always coconut-laden proas making the beach. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard.
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