‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. ‘Looks like it. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am.
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