Mr. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. She pointed across the road. ” He shrugged his shoulders. I didn't understand then, but I do now. That was the only sound he heard. Sooner or later we’ll certainly do something to clean those prisons you told me about—limewash the underside of life. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion.
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