He smiled. " "You're a damn fool, too!" exploded the trader. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. There were shadows under his eyes. ” “Come on! Why not?” “So I can spend more time with you, of course. The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. Fast asleep, he is. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved.
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