Everything had so far come to pass as the withered old Kanaka woman had foretold. I trust that no unpleasant rumours will be circulated before the election, at any rate. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. But I dare not accept it. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. ’ ‘It’s immaterial, in any event,’ Roding put in.
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