You denied it, remembering that I had called myself Anna. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. That person advanced towards him. He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated. He looked half at her and half at the sky. He was alarmed when she returned to the stage and her eyes passed over him in the audience.
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