“Now I should like to know,” she said, looking at him with a quiet smile, “what you are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring neighbourhood for walking about by yourself. And all the third act is love-sick music. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. "But they will find the evidences of slaughter in the other room,—the table upset,—the bloody cloth,— the dead man's sword,—the money,—and my memorandum, which I forgot to remove. He seemed to be trying to understand something very perplexing and elusive. His tie had demanded a struggle; he ought to have taken a clean one after his first failure. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. You have all the earmarks of a fugitive from justice. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp.
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