Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. Whether they are loved or unloved has no bearing upon this desire to test their wings, to try this new adventure, to take this leap into the dark. When she was done she checked the patio door and carried his body into the garage, burying his remains next to the ten year old girl he had raped and killed last autumn, whose bones were starting to show in small areas where the maggots had feasted. Destruction everywhere marked its course. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. No more. It is the vapouring school girl. “What ought you to do?” “I’ve hunted up all sorts of things. You see, I’m selfish. I have said your life is in danger, Thames.
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