They must be for your father. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago. She spoke slowly. And I wish you all the happiness in the world. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink.
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