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Updated: June 3, 2025
Tregagle, he done that party quick, an' then he was at the man again; but a passon got the bettermost of en an' tamed en wi' Scripture till Tregagle was as gentle as a cheel. Then they set en to work agin an' bid en make a truss o' sand down in Gwenvor Cove, an' carry it 'pon his shoulder up to Carn Olva.
"Look here, you'd better sit down." Craven sat down. "I know that some one told him," Olva said quietly, "because I told him." "Then you know who " Craven's voice was a whisper. "I know," said Olva, "because it was I who killed Carfax." Craven took it -the moment for which he'd been waiting so long in the most amazing way. "Oh!" he cried, like a child who has cut its finger. "Oh!
"I don't know," said Bunning, still very husky, "If a man's a fool he gets rotted. That's natural enough. I've always been rotted all my life. I used to think it was because people didn't understand me now I know that it really is because I am an ass." Strangely, suddenly, some of the burden that bad been upon Olva now for so long was lifted.
Olva had watched him with that amused incredulity that he so frequently bestowed upon his fellow-creatures. How was this kind of animal, with its cowardice, its stupidity, its ugliness, its uselessness, possible? He had never spoken to Bunning, although he had once received a note from him asking him to coffee a piece of very considerable impertinence.
The little silver clock had just struck a quarter to one. The match was at half-past two. Olva knew at his first sight of Bunning that something had happened. The man seemed dazed, he dragged his great legs slowly after him and planted them on the floor as though he wanted something that was secure, like a man who had begun desperately to slip down a crevasse.
His face was a yellow white, his hair unbrushed, and his mouth moved restlessly. He started when he saw Olva. "Hallo, Craven. You're looking seedy. What's the matter?" "Nothing, thanks. . . . Good-night." "No, but wait a minute. Come up to my rooms and have some coffee. I haven't seen you for days." A fortnight ago Craven would have accepted with joy. Now he shook his head. "No, thanks.
At last she raised her head, and clutching his hand as though she would never let it go, spoke: "Olva, Olva, I don't understand. I don't think I believe in any God. And, dear, see it is all so natural. Thinking about what you had done, thinking of it all alone, preyed on your nerves. Because Rupert suspected you made it worse. You imagined things everything. That is all Olva, really that is all."
Craven from her great knowledge, Rupert from his great weariness, Margaret from her great love? At last Margaret got up and sat down in a chair away from him. "Olva dear, you ought to have told me. If we had married and you had not told me " "I was so terribly afraid of losing you."
As he faced Bunning's staring glasses, the thought came to Him, "Am I going mad? Has it been too much for me? -Mad?" He stopped, wheeled round, caught the table with both hands, and leaned over to Bunning, who stood, his mouth open, his cap and gown still on. Olva very gravely said: "Come in, Bunning. Shut the door. 'Sport' it. That's right. Take off your gown and sit down."
Been working too hard I expect." Then he added, slowly, "You were crying out about Carfax." There was a long pause. The clock ticked, the light slowly faded, leaving the room in shadow. Craven's voice was uncomfortable. He said at last "You must have been thinking a lot about Carfax lately." "What did I say?" asked Olva again. "Oh, nothing." Craven turned his eyes away to the shadowy panes.
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