Reading progress update: I've read 235 out of 398 pages.
‘Of course!’ said Harriet, cheerfully. ‘How silly of me not to think of it. Nothing could be more obvious. They have one of those squalid senile rows – and the vicar ends up with a brain-storm and imagines he’s the hammer of God, like the parson in Chesterton’s story.
Bwahahaha!
Poor Father Brown. Poor G.K. Chesterton. What a dig.
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 - Dorothy L. Sayers)
