““She would remember that voice as long as she lived, Bernadette thought. It was low and slightly harsh, as if he was hoarse from yelling at the top of his lungs all day. Yet there was a deep resonance to it, as well. It seemed to come from the soles of his feet, rumbling up through that long, tough-looking body and somehow being muted by the time it reached his throat. No, she revised the whimsical reflection; not muted, but tamed a little, civilised for the benefit of those who might hear it.””
