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“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. . The one problem was that it didn’t fly. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. Strange gurgle-like noises emanated from the crypt. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. If I surprised her, if I saw her alone, I might make her understand. Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers. ’ ‘It’s not that,’ the nun said urgently, ‘but I’ve remembered something important.
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