The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. If you had any idea what depths people have sunken to as you reside safely in this high fortress, you would search your soul to find the mote of charity left there. ’ ‘Compel me? You do not know me, monsieur. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray.
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