’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. She too at once developed an anxious interest in the street outside. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. I do—with all my heart. She would never again be lonely.
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