Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. And also she didn’t like them. He appeared suddenly from the infinite in the neighborhood of the Burlington Arcade, crossing the pavement toward her and with his eyes upon her. ‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. I am quite sure that I do not know you. ‘See that writing table? Go and look in the drawer there.
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