“I am sick of it. I do not command the services of a person who will not tell me why he offers them. I am loved. She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. If I had known that you were here you should not have been kept waiting for a second. It’s not you—not a bit. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. She peered into the darkness. Hill closed his eyes.
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