" With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. “Come on in. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank. I'll be feeling fine in no time. White men and natives dealt conveniently at Copeley's. As she raised it, its lower portion fell apart into two baggy crimson masses. Bounding the corner of a garden wall, he came upon his former place of imprisonment. He was a little embarrassed. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. Because of the Dance.
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