‘But I was not there. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. . ” She pointed with shaking fingers to a great bunch of dark red carnations, thrust carelessly into a deep china bowl, to which the card was still attached.
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