“No one asks you to care for them. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. It took all my self control not to let my hands wander. ” John tried to direct the topic away from him. ” “Then don’t talk to me now.
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