“I’m thirsty. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. 1. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth.
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