She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Her head swam. Sheila grabbed the gun and laughed hysterically, brandishing the weapon and baying like a bear. He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine. For thirty years I have lived alone; but once upon a time I lived among men. ’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet. Wood's advice and assistance, but the thought of the reception she was likely to meet with from his wife deterred her from executing this resolution.
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