‘That’s wicked, that is. “Show me around you house, John. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. Sheila was finishing her laughter as Lucy brought an elbow down on the back of her head, expertly snapping the vertebra that connected Sheila’s head to her shoulders. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. They were those of the Irish watchman.
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