When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. “I wonder which of us is right,” she said. “What do you think of that?” he asked. The expression pervading the countenance of the one was vulgarity; of the other, that which is rarely found, except in persons of high birth. She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. I don’t see that men need bank it with the women. I will arise myself. She was ushered into the back of the squad car.
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