Damn! I’ve splashed. It did not seem quite fair. He had forgiven everybody. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle.
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