* * * * *
Some while later he turned up the path towards home. The whole sky now
burnt with stars; fires were a dull glow across the soft gulf of grey, the
gipsy fires. Once and again a distant voice could be heard singing. As he
reached the corner of the Cathedral, and was about to turn up towards the
Precincts, a strange sound reached his ears. He stood where he was and
listened. At first he could not define what he heard--then suddenly he
realised. Quite close to him a man was sobbing.
There is something about the sounds of a man's grief that is almost
indecent. This sobbing was pitiful in its abandonment and in its effort to
control and stifle.
Brandon, looking more closely, saw the dark shadow of a man's body pressed
against the inside buttress of the corner of the Cathedral wall. The
shadow crouched, the body all drawn together as though folding in upon
itself to hide its own agony.
Brandon endeavoured to move softly up the path, but his step crunched on
some twigs, and at the sharp noise the sobbing suddenly ceased.
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