Now, if there was one thing we had found impossible it had been to elicit from Singleton anything definite about his African experiences. “I was thinking,” he said, after an interval, “of something I both saw and heard in Africa.” We faced him in that flatteringly spontaneity of expectant silence which invites utterance. But when Singleton spoke he said something. Singleton, as usual, was as much as possible effaced in a corner. Twombly was standing on the hearth-rug, his back to the grate, his legs spread out, with his habitual air of dominating the room. He has to believe what he has both seen and heard.”Įvery man turned towards Singleton. “It stands to reason,” said Twombly, “that a man must accept the evidence of his own eyes, and when his eyes and ears agree, there can be no doubt.
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