It was Annabel who spoke. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker. ” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. It comes to this—am I to be trusted to take care of myself, or am I not?” “To judge from this proposal of yours, I should say not. Thanks. Here I am. Montressor’s guests. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy.
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