70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. “Your mother was a Gypsy. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. I offered him a hundred to watch Spurlock. ” He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the shops and people. E. Never had he been so intrigued.
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