But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. The reward is mine. ‘In love? I? Don’t be ridiculous. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. She nodded. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. But kill me rather than commit this outrage.
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