The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. ‘Except Captain Roding,’ agreed the old lady, nodding at the butler. That is where I first knew him. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. ” She fumbled with her keys and opened the front door.
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