, 13, Montague St. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. The dismal tolling of St. A deadlock. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. It was years before your time.
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