Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. ‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind. Of course Ruth was not aware that in this same volume there were lyrics known the world over. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing.
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