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” “Poor you!” said Ann Veronica. She knew that I cared for her, she had admitted that she cared for me. She knew she was a monster and so did they. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. She had felt deserving of the punishment, as he had been mainly concerned that she would be killed by accidentally falling into the pit, but it was a terrible insult. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released.
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