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Swiftly the light gathered itself together, painted for an instant the faces and the cart-wheels and the bullocks’ horns as red as blood. Then the night fell, changing the touch of the air, drawing a low, even haze, like a gossamer veil of blue, across the face of the country, and bringing out, keen and distinct, the smell of woodsmoke and cattle… |
This is from Kim. Kim and the lama are on the Grand Trunk Road, the great river of life that crosses northern India to this day, and – with all the other travellers – are settling down for the night, and lighting a little fire of dung. |
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