Boredom Is A Pleasing Antidote

I Held Out My Arms To Him And He Came To Me Like A Child.

He Lacked Tenderness; He Was Rude; And He Had More Than A Streak Of Cruelty In Him; He Was A Thief And A Liar. He Stood For Everything She Feared And Hated And Despised; But She Knew She Could Love Him... This Was No Choice Made With The Mind.

I Am Glad It Cannot Happen Twice, The Fever Of First Love. For It Is A Fever, And A Burden, Too, Whatever The Poets May Say.

He Had The Face Of One Who Walks In His Sleep, And For A Wild Moment The Idea Came To Me That Perhaps He Was Not Normal, Not Altogether Sane. There Were People Who Had Trances, I Had Surely Heard Of Them, And They Followed Strange Laws Of Which We Could Know Nothing, They Obeyed The Tangled Orders Of Their Own Sub-conscious Minds. Perhaps He Was One Of Them, And Here We Were Within Six Feet Of Death.

The Road To Manderley Lay Ahead. There Was No Moon. The Sky Above Our Heads Was Inky Black. But The Sky On The Horizon Was Not Dark At All. It Was Shot With Crimson, Like A Splash Of Blood. And The Ashes Blew Towards Us With The Salt Wind From The Sea.