“You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. She twisted her fingers tightly. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. Lucy asked Michelle if “Pfister” kept the bras and panties of misfits for their trophy value, or perhaps sold them on the black market to perverted old men. " "She has suffered enough for you," said Wood.
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