” “Your knowledge of our ways,” he murmured “is profound. It doesn't annoy me; it only disturbs me. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ” Sir John’s reply was incoherent. ” Brendon hesitated for a moment. Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself. “Oh Christ! How old were you?” “Just—well, I was young. " "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. Down in my part of the world it's all a man has to go by.
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