The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. “Why didn’t you come back? Lucy, I needed you to come back, just once. “Can you take any from me?” “No, I won’t do that. It felt too good. . ” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. ” “You see I do.
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