“But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. I'll call for you this afternoon when Wu is on. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether.
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