By Thomas H. Cook
A narrative of guilt, homicide and politics set in Africa and manhattan from the said grasp of mental suspense.
Ray Campbell runs his personal danger review company in ny. He's wary, cautious and regarded in every thing he does. yet he hasn't continuously been this way.
Twenty years in the past, Ray took mammoth dangers. operating as an aid-worker within the newly autonomous African country of Lubanda, Ray fell in love with a rustic, and with a girl. Martine, a local white Lubandan, attempted to make Ray see that each one activities have outcomes, yet he couldn't. no longer until eventually it used to be too past due for him, and for Martine...
When a chum from Lubanda is located useless in a brand new York alley, Ray is compelled to revisit a previous he's spent a life-time attempting to forget...
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Additional info for A Dancer in the Dust
You started on me first. . " His jaws working, his eyes wandering distractedly, he began to plead abjectly: •1 didn't strike you. And you seized hold • . • . Red Don or White 23 ] of my shirt. What did I tell you anything for? If I offended you, forgive me . . by God! " Soldatov gradually calmed down. After a while, turning away and pulling his hand out of Mishka's cold, sweaty hand, he said: "You wave your tail like a snake! All right, I won't tell anybody. 111 have pity on your foolishness.
I thought we'd come together. . ,. " she asked merrily through her tears, with a little shiver. Breaking away from the stove, she came right up to the table. ''"What were you thinking of when you ground my young life into the dust? You drove me into Grishka's arms. You dried up my heart. " "I didn't come here to settle accounts. You-how do you know, maybe I've beer::. " Stepan stared at his arms Hung over the table and spoke slowly, as though rooting the words out of his mouth. "I was always thinking about you.
Worn out with the everyday struggle, his heart longed for fairyland. He deliberated with him self like the hero of a classical novel, patiently seeking exalted feel ings which he had never felt, in the desire perhaps to conceal and adorn the nakedness of his simple physical attraction to her. Nevertheless with one wing the legendary touched reality : not only sexual attraction, but some other invisible thread bound him to this woman who had so fortuitously entered his life. " Even during the mournful days when Olga was still carrying within her the bitterness of her heavy loss, • • .