167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. “Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison. John spent the first weeks of summer backpacking in Europe, and she heard occasional news from Michelle of his whereabouts. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. "What good would it do you to destroy me? For I have courage to kill myself.
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