I finished writing up that day’s notes. All dozen pencils were blunt now; I had some serious sharpening to do. One by one, I ied the lead ends into the sharpener. If you turn the handle slowly and evenly you sometimes get the coil of lead-edged wood to twist and dangle in a single drop all the way to the paper bin, but tonight I was tired, and they kept breaking uheir ow.
I thought about the story. I had warmed to the Missus and John-the-dig. Charlie and Isabelle made me nervous. The doctor and his wife had the best of motives, but I suspected their intervention in the lives of the twins would e to no good.
The twins themselves puzzled me. I knew what other people thought of them. John-the-dig thought they couldn’t speak properly; the Missus believed they didn’t uand other people were alive; the villagers thought they were wrong in the head. What I didn’t know— and this was more than curious—was what the storyteller thought. In telliale, Miss Win……（内容加载失败！）
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