He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. My son wanted to marry a woman of thirty in a tobacconist’s shop. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. . And the woollen-draper departed. ’ Gerald sat back in his chair, thinking hard. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane.
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