A wily girl who is half innocence and half intuition,

a warren of dim, unlived-in rooms and unsteady furniture.

With all the lights behind him she could hardly make him out;

God is an invention created by one man to keep another at a safe distance from his wife and land.

the futility of married life struck her sore: the futility of making a bed, of drawing and pulling curtains.

He led her across the floorboards same as a cat’s tongue moves along a saucer of cream.

She often feels treacherous in the mornings.

His sweat was heavy and sweet.

So much of her life has revolved around things that never happened.