“One of us is very confused,” she said. “I won’t swear that it’s not me.

“The veins of the earth run fat with rot!” shrieked the bird. “Get a broom!” shouted someone, probably Alver. More thumping, followed by cackling, followed by silence.

“Alver wouldn’t please anyone. He’s got clammy hands.” “The great god save us.” Sarkis raised his eyes, presumably to heaven. “Death is too good for such a creature.” Halla was fairly sure that he was making fun of her.

“And that would be the church bell?” asked Sarkis. “They ring it for alarms.” “That may make things difficult.” “What, only now?” said Halla, and saw Sarkis’s teeth flash in the moonlight as he grinned.

That Halla had absolutely no idea that men would find her attractive was either a sign that she was just as naïve as he thought or that men in the decadent south had no taste whatsoever. Possibly both.

Halla flattened herself back against the wall and swung her leg over. I am the picture of grace.

Alver came up to say, politely, that he was sorry about all this. Halla stared at him and said “So why aren’t you letting me go?” “Mother, you know,” said Alver, wringing his clammy, ringed hands. “Get out,” said Halla.

“Look. My husband died years ago. His great-uncle Silas took me in. Silas left me everything in his will, like an idiot.

Sarkis began muttering savagely under his breath. He didn’t look at her while he did it. “What are you saying?” she asked. “I’m counting,” he said, with marvelous patience. “Why?” “So I don’t scream at you. My lady.”