" "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. You owe what I have done for you, to him, not to me. I was compelled to run away. She found him reclined, watching television in a small guest room hidden in a back wing of the massive house. Quite soon, after we were married—it was just within a year—I formed a friendship with the wife of a friend, a woman eight years older than myself. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress.
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