But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. ‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. I try to execute people with records, bad men, child molesters, criminals, lowlifes. Besides," she added, blushing yet more deeply, "it isn't a proper one to talk upon. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. “You don’t want to go?” “No.
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