“He is a sad blunderer. He had often read about it, and once he had incorporated it in a story, that invisible force which sent men to prison and to the gallows, when a tongue controlled would have meant liberty indefinite. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. They stank, and she hated how they blocked the sunlight. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had.
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