I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. And, thrusting a piece of iron into his mouth, he forced him out of the room. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. But I never betray an old customer.
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