‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. 3. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably.
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