Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. 238 < 30 > IN BED John drove her home after school nearly every day. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described.
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