Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. ‘That he can say he was married only to Suzanne all the time. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. You see, I’m separated from my wife. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. Stanley had never thought out.
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