And this idiot, he has threatened to arrest me and make them take me to prison. She paused for a moment. “I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. Michelle looked at their reflections in the wall mirror. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. Each time that we meet I try to kill you.
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