Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes. ’ ‘I thank you,’ Gerald said drily. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. His example was followed by Darrell. I am a murderer.
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