Friday, July the 15th, 2005
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“It was one of those super-expensive makes which are, on any gear, at any speed, on any grade, as noiseless as a puma. Thwaite never hesitated in the gloom; he kept straight or swerved, crept or darted, whizzed or crawled for nearly an hour more. Then he turned sharp to the left and uphill. I could feel and smell the soaked, hanging boughs close above and about me, the wet foliage on them, and the deep sodden earth mould that squelched under the tires. Then we stopped dead. Thwaite moved things that clicked or thumped.” — Edward Lucas White, Lukundoo & Other Stories