Why did he imagine she was making this journey to England? She feigned interest. “Who did you live with before the Becks? I hear things. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. She had seen for herself right up in the bedroom window with her binoculars when Joanie was gone shopping one night, right with her own eyes.
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