His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. He heard the woman talking again. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. “You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home. On his way he made a slight divergence from the direct route and paused for a moment outside the flat where Anna was now living. ” Anna had suddenly stiffened. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. '" "What is that?" she asked.
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