Jack's nose was broad and flat; Darrell's straight and fine as that of Antinous. ” She sat quite still looking at him. I seek chaos, but not out of choice. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. . .
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