One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. I have yet another. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. 9 <2> THE UNTIMELY DEMISE OF RAY PLOTE Later that night after the dishes were washed and the garbage taken out, Lucy and the Beck's natural daughter retired to their shared bedroom. He stared at her breasts while he touched them. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream.
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