He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. I don’t want any laws or freedoms to protect me from a man like Mr. Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. I know my son's voice too well. Taking her limbs was the only thing I could do short of killing her. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours.
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