... They capered ... they snapped
their fingers at him ... they spun him down to where fear was ... he
had delivered himself to them, by not being big enough.
"Mrs. Bigger had a baby--which was bigger, Mrs. Bigger or the baby?"
The silly conundrum sprang at him from goodness knows what void--and
over and over again he repeated it to himself, trying to remember the
answer, trying to forget fear....
"Mrs. Bigger had a baby--"
He dared not fall asleep ... with the woman who had killed her husband,
alone in the room with him ... alone in the house with him.
A stir from the other bed, and one arm flung out in sleep. Dickie's
knees jerked violently--his skin went cold and sticky with sweat. "You
fool--it's only Ruth!"
But she _did_ it--she did it once. There are people who can't kill, and
a few, just a very few, who can. And because they can, they are
different, and have to be shut away from the herd.
But--but this woman. They've made a ghastly mistake--they've let her go
free--and I can't tell anyone ... nobody knows, except me and Ruth----
Ah, yes--a quivering sigh of relief here--Ruth knows, too--Ruth, my
wife--ruth means pity.
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