'—'Pretty well,' says I; 'you're not badly off at the Friars, for that matter. ” “And the people?” Brendon asked. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. He was a large oafish man, a man that seemed deceptively harmless, and some thought him slightly retarded.
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