“A low murmur of voices and laughter, the noises of traffic, people coming and going—he’d seen markets like this in a hundred English towns, peaceful and bustling. A week ago a man had died on market day, Mavers had made his way through the crowds shouting, agitating, locked in hatred, and a child had been frightened nearly to death. But a traveler, strolling through Upper Streetham this pleasant summer morning, wouldn’t hear about it, wouldn’t be touched by it. None of the drama, none of the mi...sery, none of the lasting pain showed.He turned and moved briskly down the sidewalk, stopping at Dr. Warren’s for a report on Hickam. The man had had rather a restless night, Warren’s housekeeper reported, but he’d eaten a decent enough breakfast and seemed a little stronger.“That’s when the craving for gin will return, as he improves,” she added. “The poor soul isn’t out of the woods yet, I can tell you! And what he’ll do with himself when he’s well enough to go home is another worry.”“I’m told he was a cabinetmaker before the war,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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