To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. And nothing to tell her where to begin. I killed him, Nigel.
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