“I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. ‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. So the charge was dismissed. “There was a keg, hash, LSD, pot, you know, the usual. ” She became aware of her aunt, through the panes of the greenhouse, advancing with an air of serene unconsciousness from among the raspberry canes. They carried no more than bare subsistence wages; and they demanded all her time and energy.
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