“Poor old Alice!” Her brother Roddy came to her and demanded tea, and asked her to state a case. Outside the door he turned and stared at the panels. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. She herself had cut the slender tie that had bound them. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke.
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