She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. “You can keep him at arm’s length. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. I’ve more than twice your strength and at least ten times your cunning, when it’s needed. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. She killed a man who was squatting outside of a freezing brick shanty on the southern edge of Chicago as he waited for his dealer. Hastily ascending these steps, Jack found the door, as he anticipated, locked. The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. His hug became an embrace.
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