What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish. She donned her gloves. It comforts him when he is most forlorn. She studied her form in the full length mirror, assessed 69 her body as one would that of a prize calf, trying to see it through his eyes, through the eyes of desire. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright.
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