” She fumbled with her keys and opened the front door. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. " "For procuring my imprisonment?" "For saving your life.
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