I don’t know. ‘You don’t know him. Gina, the eleven year old, just couldn’t take it and she ran away. \" Said John as he piled the papery remnants of their meal onto the tray. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. You would want me to be clean, if you gave me a thought, that is. It was the largest room in the house, which was why it had been given over to the main business of the convent as a house of God. I go back about once a year. “John, of course I forgive you if it is what you need from me. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade.
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