She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. It was the gallows. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. She had always wondered when they would start being able to trace her kills, with their expanding systems of criminal databases and computers, and now it was starting to happen. ‘Damnation! Too late. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. Nobody can anticipate your next move. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look.
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