Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. Amongst them was a revolver. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. Each time that we meet I try to kill you. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry.
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