No matter. 95 The officer showed her into the sleepy suburban police station, a hub of inactivity on Sunday night except for herself and a slightly drunk woman who had been brought in for DUI. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. I shall give you my life, every moment and thought of my life.
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