But not Stott. He did not mind these irksome processes because they gave him ample time to think.
He could think about Aloise.
Stott considered it extraordinary that a man of his background, upbringing, should ever have married a woman like Aloise. The idea of marrying a woman with a name like that had never seemed quite normal to Stott. He realised that somehow in her own particular way she had lived up to the name. Most of the time that he spent watching and waiting, although his eyes were always wary, he spent thinking about her.
He thought about their marriage—a business which had lasted for five strange weeks—a marriage which had never been consummated—a marriage which had been ended by a laconic telephone message from a call-box telling him that she was going away with someone els
