’ Gerald eyed her. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. He had been the one to dress her in the finest silks and brocades, and here she was, displayed for the world to see in 248 drugstore makeup and the uniform of an old schoolteacher. Day after day for a measured hour in the lecture-theatre, with elaborate power and patience, Russell pieced together difficulty and suggestion, instance and counter-instance, in the elaborate construction of the family tree of life. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers.
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