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. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. “You must tell me the truth, and I will see that no harm comes to you. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. “I shall leave the flat to you and go to a hotel. "Be still!" "Oh, come along! I've just got to have my muck bath.
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