\"Would you like some orange juice?\" Larry had already been working outside for an hour, Mike at his side, dragging grass clippings to the compost pile. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. ” “To bad rubbish. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself. ” She felt strange confessing herself to a criminal attorney. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered.
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