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I never saw a more touching ceremony, but it is one that I need not describe. Stephen and I slept in the enclosure by the packed flower, which he would not leave out of his sight. It was as well that we did so, since about twelve o'clock by the light of the moon I saw the door in the wall open gently and the heads of some of the albino women appear through the aperture.
The skeleton, the fat lady, Old Ben, the Albino Children, little Ella, and even the sword swallower, all gave him a kindly word as they passed him while he was at his work, or saw him as the preparations for the grand entree were being made.
After a weary day's work shelter was found in a house close by the sea, on the shores of Price's Inlet; where, in company with a young fisherman, who was in the employ of Mr. Magwood, of Charleston, I slept upon the floor in my blankets. Charles Hucks, the fisherman, asserted that three albino deer were killed on Caper's Island the previous winter.
"I will take advantage of the opportunity, for I have something to say to some of the members of that group over there." And rising to his feet, he gave his opponent half an hour to study it out. Iday held in her hands the strip of cardboard on which was written forty-eight questions, while Albino held the book which contained the answers. "That's a lie! It's not so!
The soiled bandage on the head of Butch was far too thick to allow his hat to sit in its normal position. It was perched high on top, and secured in place by a bit of string which passed from side to side under the chin. Behind him came Lovel, an almost albino type with straw-coloured hair and eyes bleached and passionless; the vacuous smile was never gone from his lips.
Rile tossed a boot heel on to the floor and as it rolled toward the two men he shot Canfield through the chest. Lang's gun crashed almost with his own. Rile's knees sagged under him and he pitched face down on the floor, his arms sprawled out before him. The surge of the crowd, pressing back out of line, threw the albino on the edge of it, his big form towering alone.
Five male portraits by the Bergamesque master Moroni are to be found here. One is said to be a portrait of himself, though it certainly bears no resemblance to the portrait at Bergamo. I cannot forbear from mentioning the Portrait of a Scholar, which seems to me one of his best works. Moroni was born at Bondo, not far from Albino, in 1525.
I will answer for it that there will be every shade in it from that of Camille Hautier, my first love, who was an albino, to this that I have here." As he spoke, he took out of his pocket a small parcel from which he drew a lock of coal-black hair, which he spread out upon his hand.
For a space he thought of a headlong bolt for the security of the public ways directly the spell was over. Apart from the trivial consideration of his self-respect, he perceived that this would be only a foolish postponement and aggravation of his trouble. He perceived the ferret-faced man and the albino talking together with their eyes towards him.
Only one tangible thing would keep in her mind, try as she would to ignore it. That was the quite irrelevant fact that his head was singularly like an albino cocoanut. He, too, felt thwarted. He felt that this romantic business of seduction was, after all, unexpectedly tame. But this was only the beginning. At any rate, every day she spent with him was a day gained.
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