She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. She wanted to kiss his feet. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. But in between these wider phases of comparative confidence were gaps of disconcerting doubt, when the universe was presented as making sinister and threatening faces at her, defying her to defy, preparing a humiliating and shameful overthrow.
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