It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. She led him up the long hall solemnly. One transgression; he was sure of that. He was wearing a new silk hat, with a slightly more generous brim than its predecessor, and it suited his type of face, robbed his dark eyes a little of their aggressiveness and gave him a solid and dignified and benevolent air. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. I’m sorry.
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