Ingiliz yazar Catherine Cookson’in olum yildonumu (11 Haziran 1998)
“Dehsetten donmus bir halde otururken, onunden gecen insanlarin ve kendisine yoneltilen bakislarin farkindaydi. Sabah saat dortte uyandigindan beri yukseliyordu bu icindeki korku. Zaman kazanabildigine sukrediyordu, boylece adliyeye geldiginden beri guc toplamisti. Gozlerini kirpmadan onune bakarken, kendi kendine tekrar neden burada oldugunu sordu. Nasil olmustu bu? Onun, Harry Blenheim'ın basina nasil gelmisti boyle bir sey? Iyi bir adamdi, Harry Blenheim. Birkac ay oncesine, kendisine olan saygisini yitirene dek o da ayni kanidaydi.”
“He sat encased in frozen terror aware of people passing him and the looks they cast on him as they went into the Court. The terror had been rising in him since he awoke at four o'clock this morning. He was grateful even for this respite because, gathering force as it had done since he entered the Court-house. His eyes unblinking, he stared before him and again asked himself why he was here, how had it come about? How had it happened to him, Harry Blenheim? He was a nice man, was Harry Blenheim. It had been his own opinion up till a few months ago, at which time he had been full of selfrespect.”


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