His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. I WAS talking to him before I saw his name on the card beside the row of microscopes. Just me and another girl named Krista who turned eighteen and left right about when I got there. What brings you here?” “I’m here to see my uncle. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger.
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