She gloried in it: he needed her. 219 “Some in Europe, a few down south, none here. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. If he had got off, they might have hanged me, and welcome. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. Ennison’s manner was certainly not one of a willing host.
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