contemporary abstract painting

contemporary abstract painting
She felt ashamed, deeply ashamed, of deceiving so kind a husband. And yet, what could she do? How could she share her dreadful burden with poor Bunting? Why, 'twould be enough to make a man go daft. Even she often felt as if she could stand it no longer - as if she would give the world to tell someone - anyone - what it was that she suspected, what deep in her heart she so feared to be the truth.
But, unknown to herself, the fresh outside air, fog-laden though it was, soon began to do her good. She had gone out far too little the last few days, for she had had a nervous terror of leaving the house unprotected, as also a great unwillingness to allow Bunting to come into contact with the lodger.
When she reached the Underground station she stopped short. There were two ways of getting to St. Pancras - she could go by bus, or she could go by train. She decided on the latter. But before turning into the station her eyes strayed over the bills of the early afternoon papers lying on the ground.
Two words,
THE AVENGER,
stared up at her in varying type.