She had almost chosen to prostitute herself rather than live in that animal state once, but had found a warm cave in Kentucky just as situations had grown truly desperate. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. . “All of which doesn’t help me in the slightest degree to pay back that money. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her.
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