Only now it does not matter at all because Joan has come and has seen me. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. 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 rose slowly and extended it. “I’ve never been prone to them.
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