" "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. He told her something about music, the great world outside. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. Cars rushed by on the street, swerving into the middle of the two lane road to avoid the knee-deep puddles forming around sewer grates. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. “Isn’t the question more complicated than that?” said Ann Veronica. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face.
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