The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. " "Tell it. I burned it. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. I believe it amused him. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly. It’s one of our conventional superstitions.
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