Unformatted text preview: Won't they look for us here?" he asked. "I don't know. I don't know that they expect us to go to Scotland. I don't know that they expect you to remember things . . ." He laughed bitterly. "Well, sometimes I don't." "What do you remember now?" He looked hateful and solemn. His beard and the mustache were ominous on his face. Signs of obvious sexual maturity. The miscar- riage. The fontanel. This was the mature animal, or was it merely adolescent? Donnelaith. It wasn't a town at all. It was no more than the inn, and the nearby headquarters of the archaeological project, where a small contingent of archaeological students slept and ate. Tours were offered of the ruined castle above the loch, and of the ruined town down in the glen, with its Cathedral-which could not be seen from the inn-and farther out the ancient primal circle of stones, which was quite a walk but worth it. But you could go only in the designated areas. If you roamed alone, you must obey all signs. The tours w...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10