ToC As Jack opened the gate, and crossed the little garden, which exhibited in every part the neatness and attention of its owner, he almost trembled at the idea of further disturbing her peace of mind. She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. It had been intensified and corrupted by time, as if to add insult to injury. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream.
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