He had deliberately saved it for last. He declined supper, but took wine. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. “Everything will follow,” she said. Wild was formerly an agent to the Jacobite party, but, on the offer of a bribe from the opposite faction, he unhesitatingly deserted and betrayed his old employers. He was bewildered. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. “Yes. He said nothing, even though it was not raining.
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