In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. How dreary it all looks. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. He began shoveling dirt over the bodies. The truth was impossible, indecent. His voice had broken.
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