She threw him his car keys. “How did you know I haven’t been getting any sleep --?” “Oops, that’s my class. “Why on earth,” he asked, “did you hurt me like that?” Ann Veronica did her best to think she had not deliberately attempted to cause him pain. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. The Kanaka— which means man—is a Sandwich Islander, with a Malayan base.
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