As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible.
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