He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. Saw the villain through the keyhole. ‘At least I couldn’t say for sure. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. "Write as follows," continued Jack. For the young, immortality must seem promising, even wonderful! The grass is always greener on the other side.
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