In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. Good night. If by any chance I have made a mistake a word will bring me to you. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. He raised her to a sitting position. Well, I'll take myself off. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. “Eight, Cavendish Square. " "That is very kind of you," she acknowledged. The afternoon had passed now into twilight.
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