” “I don’t know who you are,” Ennison said quietly, “but you are a thundering liar. She makes catty comments about you to her friends if you are within hearing distance—that’s her thing—then if you are brave enough to confront her, she just denies it all and laughs at you. “Broddick is a heavy man,” he was saying, “and the main interest of the play was the embezzlement. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it. Suspending his labour on Jack's appearance, the man demanded his business. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. ” He stalked around the room. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose.
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