His car, a black Alfa Romeo, waited at the end of the subdivision. Stanley. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn. Fine but strong lines marked the profile: that would speak for courage and resolution. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne.
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