” She turned a firelit face to her husband. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. ’ ‘No, no, go and fetch the men to the house. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. '—'They can't,' says I. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. Montague Hill do not interest me in the least. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. “Why on earth,” he asked, “did you hurt me like that?” Ann Veronica did her best to think she had not deliberately attempted to cause him pain.
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