God only knows what I have done, or left undone. Her father became much less distant towards his only daughter in the days that followed. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. I had to go at a moment’s notice. Beyond was another door, on which was painted in black letters: MR. ‘Because you are a bête, and a pig, and imbecile. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. I'll go alone.
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