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We traversed many vaults in which mouldy bones and verdigris-eaten. sarcophagi were piled about the walls . . ."
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Who Are the Living?
Behind his words hovered a legion of dark images. And the stoop of his shoulders seemed to bear a burden of centuries through which no man could conceivably have lived!
I FIND it peculiarly difficult to express the exact nature of the sentiment which Tomeron had always evoked in me. However, I am sure that the feeling never partook, at any time, of what is ordinarily known as friendship. It was a compound of unusual esthetic and intellectual elements, and was somehow
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