She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. Gerald’s voice came back to her, saying that she could not hope to outwit “a man who means business”. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. It was nothing like the big church wedding she wanted, but nothing could shame her greater than to have a child out of wedlock. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white.
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