The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. “I confess it. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. ’ ‘Success?’ Her eyes narrowed. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he said, “because we want you to do us a favour.
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