The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import. Once I banged on the door so hard I split it in two. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated. Jonathan, however, was nowhere to be seen. Cathy chimed. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. Easily I could have killed you.
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