“I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently.
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