It is the product of centuries. On the spot there came to me the added shock of a certitude that it was not for me he had come there. But why? Her passage through the darkening air or the verse with its black vowels and its opening sound, rich and lutelike? He walked away slowly towards the deeper shadows at the end of the colonnade, beating the stone softly with his stick to hide his revery from the students whom he had left: and allowed his mind to summon back to itself the age of Dowland and Byrd and Nash. --O, go on, Wells, all said.
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