“Barnaby Jones was a good man. A gentle man. A lonely man. Providence had not given him a pretty face, nor a witty turn of phrase. He
went about his business calmly, with no fuss, with a quiet determination common to those who have learnt to expect neither support nor approval from the outside world. Nobody cared about Barnaby Jones.
Barnaby left school with reasonable grades. He took up work at the local post office, sorting other people’s mail. He looked in wonder at the colourful postcards from far-away places. Barnaby never got any mail of his own.”