“Perhaps one talks nonsense about a woman’s instinct,” she said. ” She said as she rested her head against his chest, eyes unfocused on the fading sky. But she wished she could put the thing she had done in some way to them so that it would not hurt them so much as the truth would certainly do. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. Depend upon it, there is a place for you—waiting. “Is that plain?” she asked. “Get me someone, Oracle. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful.
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