hard, cruel, malignant sound. She was afraid he would come upstairs. But he did not. She waited apprehensively. He went out.

Where she was most vulnerable, he hurt her. Oh, where she was delivered over to him, in her very soft femaleness, he seemed to lacerate her and desecrate her. She pressed her hands over her womb in anguish, whilst the tears ran down her face. And why, and why? Why was he like this?

Suddenly she dried her tears. She must get the tea ready.

She went downstairs and set the table. When the meal was ready, she called to him.

“I've mashed the tea, Will, are you coming?”

She herself could hear the sound of tears in her own voice, and she began to cry again.