The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound. Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust.
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