I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. “But about last night. She could even think of what had happened. Anna said nothing. \" Larry got up from his chair and trudged to the refrigerator, pouring himself a glass of milk from the never-ending supply of two percent. She was never able to trace the changes her attitude had undergone, from the time when she believed herself to be the pampered Queen of Fortune, the crown of a good man’s love (and secretly, but nobly, worshipping some one else), to the time when she realized she was in fact just a mannequin for her lover’s imagination, and that he cared no more for the realities of her being, for the things she felt and desired, for the passions and dreams that might move her, than a child cares for the sawdust in its doll. "What is it?" "The night," she answered.
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