Page:The woman, the man, and the monster (IA womanmanmonster00dawe).pdf/315

 “T love you,” she said.

He had never a doubt of it; he did not want to doubt it. This woman filled his life’s cup to the brim; there was no room in it for an- other drop.

Presently he arose and began thoughtfully to pace the room. In moments of acute men- tal worry he almost invariably lit pipe or ciga- rette. He lit a cigarette now, insensibly moving towards a small table near the window. There was an empty china bowl on the table, and into this he dropped the match. The window opened on to the street, and with eyes which scarcely saw he looked out. Indeed, he was turning away again when on the other side of the road he noticed a little man staring hard in his direction. He looked again, a sudden suspicion flashing through him.

This person, though short, was stoutly built. He wore a black bowler hat, dark coat and brown tweed trousers. A little dark moustache cut a sharp line across his pallid and some- what heavy face. Carey Vermont looked and wondered. There was something reminiscent about this person. But where had he seen him before?

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