AUDIO BOOK - LONLEY
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Suddenly he heard voices and instinctively stepped back into the shadows, peering upwards through an open bay window. On the second floor, he could see a large room hung with heavy gilt framed paintings, stuffed bores, heads and antique hunting rifles from within, K. McGruff angry voice, which lonely assumed, belonged to Celia's grandfather. He recognized Celia's voice, too, selling hurt and wild lonely, edged towards the creeper covered walls of the house and listened. It was you, wasn't it? Cried Celia. Who told you about that? Celia? I have a right to know, her grandfather demanded angrily. Answer me! She screamed. Calm down! The whole neighborhood can hear. Who cares? I want them to hear. My grandfather throws defenseless orphans out onto the streets so he could line his filthy pockets. What do you care, Celia? He shouted back. You were happy to take my filthy money when it paid for everything. The fancy education, the cars, the clothes. I didn't realize it was all paid with blood money from the hound side orphanage. There just hounds, dogs. They live on the streets, he snarled. Lonely heard Celia screech glass shattered on the marble floor. They were helpless. Puppies she cried, Hound Ling's lonely ears stood on end. His heart began to thump. Celia, I order you to shut your mouth! Or I'll have no choice But Thio what she challenged Get your Tom thugs to rough me up a little, tossed me out on the streets, what with the good citizens of Port Alva Ridge, Think off their precious mayor, then lonely, staggered backwards, his snout trembling. Celia's grandfather was none other than a K running in himself. The immortal cat financier Bella had mentioned in a letter the one who had ruined role Flanagan and seeing Chelsea cast out into the cold. There was a sound of a vicious slap. Celia yelped. You ungrateful little tramp! Rattigan yelled. I'll teach you the meaning of respect. Maybe I should throw you out in the gutter with the filthy hounds you love So much Run against. Tirade didn't get any further. He raised his hand a second time, but before he could deliver the blow, Lonely had scaled the creeper trellis, his head filled with a red cloud of rage and come hurtling through the bay window. Celia, who lay sprawled and sobbing on the floor, looked up in shock. Only who were you? Hissed Rattigan, whirling like a startled snake, hands still raised. I'm one of the hound wings you threw in the gutter start lonely, baring, his teeth guitar case still slung on his shoulder. He stood between Celia, prone on the carpet and run again. Never lay a hand on her again. Never, he growled. Never lay a hand on her again. Never, he growled.