She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. You will find the certificate in my pocket. And though I say it that shouldn't say it, no man can tie a better knot. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone.
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