He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. ‘My God!’ he said, ‘I’ll go after them and kill him. On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport. ‘You do not dare look in my clothes. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. Her confession was still unmade.
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