“The place was damp and musty. All in all, he was well satisfied with his chat with Miss Turnsby. At least one of the pieces to the puzzle had fallen into place: the tax receipt and Andy’s trip. He was rather pleased with himself for the way he had gone about it. He walked all through the house. Nothing had changed. The house looked as though nothing in it had changed for twenty years, and yet, he thought, standing in the living room, something was different there although the furniture was all ...as he remembered it. It was the mid-morning light from the small window, and its rays fell between him and a painting he had not even noticed in the artificially lighted room yesterday. Now it had the luminousness of the misty sunlight that probably came to it only at this hour of the day. Alex went to a chair across the room from it and sat down. There was nothing at all in the room except the painting from where he sat—a long sweep of meadow into a sparse wood that almost sang with changing fragments of color, as though there was the movement in it of birds or dampened leaves myriad in the sunlight as the wind stirred them.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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