95 The officer showed her into the sleepy suburban police station, a hub of inactivity on Sunday night except for herself and a slightly drunk woman who had been brought in for DUI. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers. But what would her aunt think of Teddy’s recent off-hand suggestion of marriage? What would she think of the Widgett conversation? Suppose she was to tell her aunt quietly but firmly about the parasitic males of degraded crustacea. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. “Not since 1582 when I left him and came to America. And they never talked of anything at all, never discussed, never even encouraged gossip. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. "I've counted ten coffins so far. I wonder. I wish that it worked. That was an admission all right.
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