It was this thought more than any other which had
seat him out on this cold and windy night, under a moon which stuttered
uncertainly between the clouds.
There were more pages in the book, but he could tell, by the snug way most lay against each other that he was almost done with Annies history up to now.
There were more pages in the book, but he could tell, by the snug way most lay against each other that he was almost done with Annies history up to now.
There
were more pages in the book, but he could tell, by the snug way most lay
against each other that he was almost done with Annies history up to now. He
felt a flush of shame and humiliation warming his face, but now they were mixed
with real anger: it had bloomed from a spark into a tiny sunken flame. It had
been tidy before, but now there were dirty dishes stacked on every available
surface; it looked to Paul as if every one in the house must be here. She had
plugged the knife into the outlet by his wheelchair and there had been more
pleading and more screaming and more promises that he would be
good.