“He became aware, even, of feeling a curious surprise that he had nothing to do with that luckless body in the hayfield, a relief that it was not he who had committed the crime – as though the point had been undecided till now. Then his mind started working furiously and irrationally, like an engine accelerated with the clutch in. Well, at any rate this will prevent Hero going away. It’s an ill wind. But why should anyone? And who? WHO? The hayfield. Why the hayfield? Why not? In the morning, in... the morning, in the happy field of hay. Only it’s the evening. Tiverton looked bad. Mouth twitching, like a baby going to cry. I wonder whereabouts in the hayfield. Nuisance; police about, I suppose; will mess up the work. Oh, of course, he said in one of the haystacks. How lovely Hero looked. Her body is the sunlight of my flesh. That’s blank verse. Not a very good line either. One of the haystacks. Which one? Come on, say it out. Not the Fifth form stack, I hope. I hope not. Why, what on earth does it matter to you which?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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