- The single yellow bulb threw long shadows across the pitted floor onto the stark walls. Doug gazed with detachment at a large brown stain on the wall opposite. It was chest height. He wondered whether it belonged to someone he knew.
- “Mr Lancing, please,” the bespectacled priest asked, almost implored, “renounce what you’ve written. Admit that it was a derived work. That’s all you need to do. Prison is surely better than – “, the priest’s glance shot across to the single barred window, “ – the alternative.”
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