He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. A few seasons went by where he initiated her into the disgusting rituals of killing and eating human beings, a dark time where she pined for a rescuer who never arrived. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. That’s my point. She tried to think what she should do in this eventuality or that.
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