“What is the good of pretending?” she said. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. He could not tell whether she was English or American. ” “I don’t see why I shouldn’t. They give themselves airs, but so it is. ” She laughed gaily. Rats and things crawling all over. I forget. She felt sickeningly empty. "Were you present at the time of the robbery?" pursued Jonathan.
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