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Updated: June 5, 2025
And here, to Olva's intense dismay, the wretched creature burst into the most passionate and desperate tears, putting his great hands over his face, his whole body sobbing. It was desolation the desolation of a human being who had clutched desperately at hope after hope, who had demanded urgently that he should be given something to live for and had had all things snatched from his hands.
Bunning's voice quite rang out. His eyes now desperately sought Olva's face, as though he would find there something that would make the world less black. "I wasn't frightened -not then -that was the odd thing. The only thing I thought about was saving you -getting you out of it. I didn't see! I didn't see!" "And then -what did Craven say?" Olva asked quietly. "Craven said scarcely anything.
If only " and his voice caught "if only no one suspects." Olva gravely answered, "No one suspects." "If I thought that any one that there was any chance that any one had an idea. . . ." Craven's voice was echoing in Olva's ears. He answered again "No one has the slightest suspicion." Bunning got up heavily from the chair "I shall be better now. It's been so awful having a secret.
They reached the Court it swam softly in the moonlight stars burnt, here and there, in a trembling sky. Lawrence put his great arm through Olva's. "Rippin' game that o' yours yesterday. Rippin'." He seemed to lick his lips over it as a gourmet over a delicate dish. Lawrence pursued his slow thoughts.
To expect a summons to death and public shame, to find Bunning. Bunning that soft, blithering, emotional, religious, middle-class maniac Bunning! "Soft-faced" Bunning, as he was called, was the man of Olva's year in whom the world at large found most entertainment.
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