She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. Spurlock. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. The two young fools laughed until they cried. His eyes never left her face. “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. . Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. Mike answered the door while still toweling his hands dry.
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