"The rest of him was here, and he might get out of this; the prospects for doing so seemed ever more remote, but he supposed it was technically possible. The spray of dried flowers on the coffee-table had overturned; beneath the table, barely visible, lay a dish of crusted custard pudding and a large book.The spray of dried flowers on the coffee-table had overturned; beneath the table, barely visible, lay a dish of crusted custard pudding and a large book. At the very last moment she pivoted away from him at d flung the water-pitcher at the door instead, where it shattered as the soup-bowl had the other day. He felt a flush of shame and humiliation warming his face, but now they were mixed with real anger: it had bloomed from a spark into a tiny sunken flame. There were more pages in the book, but he could tell, by the snug way most lay against each other that he was almost done with Annies history up to now.
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