"Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. 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. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. Don’t think I can’t sympathize and understand. I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself.
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