She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. " "I don't know. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. “You know that I have always hated this!” She 264 looked down at Michelle’s pitifully bloody head, her body barely hanging on to its breath. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. ’” Anna made no remark. In Larry’s old Cadillac sedan, she sat in the backseat as Larry drove and Cathy sat beside him. The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. He did it, he said, “to distract his mind.
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