Her voice seemed tocome from a great distance, and it took all her willpower not to lookback at the youth in the gallery, at her son, Manfred. The curtains were closed and a night lamp burned onthe bedside table. In all but the ears, she thought, and stifled a giggle. it was a very deep wound I gavehim.
He is right. Davie my boy, it's not every day that an old mate of mine wins anOlympic medal. Theweather should be fine this time of year, perhaps a few thunderstorms onthe highveld. That menacing masked figure must surelybe close.
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