“No, it was simple. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. A deep silence, however, now prevailed, broken only by the tolling of the bells of Newgate and St. Michelle pulled a Kleenex out of a Pocket Pack and blew her nose. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century. He pulled her from him to kiss her on the mouth and paused, looking into her face. She’s obsessed with him, you know, totally obsessed. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks.
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