The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. Full as she was of him, it felt good to shower her kill out of her hair. 168 < 20 > HISTORY OF AN ABDUCTION She had not seen him for hundreds of years. ‘Pray you, do me this one little service, and do not ask me why. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. He was the social order; he was law and wisdom.
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