" The Wastrel advanced. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. His brain reeled. ” “Of course I am. Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. All the village was assembled in the churchyard. I swear it. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish.
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