Chapter 20 first quarter

As I stood watching Mr. P. leave, the church door opened and Reverend Cathorpe came out. He gave me a vague smile and said, "Morning, uh—" I helped him continue: "Burton." "Yes, yes, don't think I don't remember you, I just can't remember your name for a while. What a beautiful day!" "Yes." I replied shortly. He glanced at me. "But it happened—unfortunate thing, that unfortunate boy who helped out at the Symingtons, alas! I must admit I can't believe there are murders in our part of the world. Er... Bur... Mr. Burton .” "It looks weird," I said.

"I heard something just now," he said, leaning closer to me. "Someone has received an anonymous letter. Have you heard any rumors about it?" "Got it." I said. "It's a mean and cowardly thing," he paused, and then, after a long Latin quotation, he asked me again: "This passage from Horace fits the situation, don't you think?" "Exactly." I said. There seemed to be no one else I could talk to, so I headed home, buying some tobacco and a bottle of sherry along the way, and hearing what the lower classes had to say. "Despicable tramp!" seems to be the conclusion of those people.

"These people go to other people's houses, begging pitifully for money, and if there is only one girl in the house, they show their ugly faces. My sister Dora had a terrible experience when she came to Compeiras-- That guy was drunk, and he came to sell that kind of small book of poems..." The man went on and on, until at last Dora bravely slammed the door shut in front of the bum, and hid in a hidden corner.Judging from the tone of the speaker, I thought Dora must be hiding in the bathroom. "Just wait until the mistress returns!" I was in Little Foz and only a few minutes before lunch.Joanna stood motionless in front of the living room window, her thoughts drifting far, far away.

"What were you doing all morning?" I asked. "Oh, I don't know, nothing special." I went out into the corridor, and there were two chairs by an iron table with two remnants of sherry glasses.There was something on the other chair, and I looked at it for a long time and couldn't see why. "What the hell is this?" "Oh," said Joanna, "probably a patient's spleen or something. Dr. Griffey thought I'd be interested." I looked at the photos curiously, every man has his way of chasing women.If it were me, I would never choose a photo of the spleen—whether it is sick or not.But obviously, this is what Joanna asked to see!

"It looks really uncomfortable," I said. Joanna more or less agrees. "How's Griffey?" I asked. "Looks terribly tired and unhappy, probably has something on his mind." "Is it because the spleen doesn't obey his orders?" "Don't be silly! I mean it." "I bet he has 'you' on his mind. Hope you let him go, Joanna." "Oh, don't talk nonsense, I didn't do anything." "Women always say that." Joanna got angry and walked away. The photo of the spleen was starting to curl a little in the sun, and I took a corner of it and put it in the living room.Although I don't like this photo at all, I think Griffey must cherish it.

I took out a thick book from the bottom of the shelf, and tried to clip the photos in and flatten it. It was a thick book for preaching. As soon as I opened the book, I was taken aback. I took a closer look and found that several pages had been neatly cut off from the central part of the book.