“Bit thick on the old man, isn’t it?” said Roddy, who had developed a bluff, straightforward style in the motor shop. Then pain entered their depths. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations. I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers.
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