Ruth wore a printed cotton kimono. Shocked and appalled, she brought her left knee up fast, ramming his testicles swiftly. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky.
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