It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. ‘One thing at a time, missie. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. One transgression; he was sure of that. “Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. He became a little more personal and intimate.
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