‘Ah, the tragedy. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. Before the full sentence was carried into execution, he was taken into a small room adjoining the court. ‘That’s better. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness.
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