He saw the tragedy on the boy's face; but he was merciless. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. I saw him ride away with that other fellow. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. ‘Not kill me, I mean.
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