“Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. “No thanks. When he found himself thinking about it, it upset him so that he at once resorted to distraction. Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk. ’ He nodded in the direction of her pistol. ’ ‘But—’ ‘You’ll get her all over blood again. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. It slipped out—as did that “she”.
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