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The goddess was dead and he was free. I have a bottle of champagne. Early yesterday afternoon I felt ever so much better — I spent most of my time up there on my knees, deep in prayer, and the answer came, as it often does, and it was quite simple, as it often is. "The man who wrote these pages was in a rather gruesome frame of mind, my dear, Paul thought. It was as if she was a little frightened to come any closer — as if she thought something in him might burn her. An hour later, full of dope and drifting off to sleep, the sound of the howling wind now soothing rather than frightening, he thought: I'm not going to escape. The driver got out and stood almost exactly where the young trooper had been standing when he spoke his last four words.Keep cool, for God's sake — don't lose everything you've gained! Those things — but mostly the stupid goddam book — had been his piano. But oh, Mr Rancho Grande! He had a basket of what appeared to be newspaper clippings in his arms. There were three more Union-Leader obits on the following pages.

Sandpiper, whose given name was Virginia, had turned an upstairs room of her home into Misery's Parlor. "When he saw her again, she had a big green garbage bag in her hands and three or four more sticking out of the back pockets of her jeans. I'm leaving it because it's damp down here and your legs may ache quite badly before I get back. Numbly, Paul continued to turn the pages while the wind and rain drove against the house. "She began to pull half healed turves out of the ground with her trembling fingers, and although Geoffrey returned in almost no time, she had by then already clawed a hole some eight inches deep. He had done amazingly well for a man who had once found it impossible to write if he was out of cigarettes or if he had a backache or a headache a degree or two above a low drone. He tried looking up at the interlocked W's, but all too soon he was looking at the typewriter again. "And I'll say, "If Elvis Presley was still alive and you saw him last winter, would you remember seeing him? The scenario had called for him to effect his escape through one of the parlor windows. That, and some intellectual curiosity about where she had come from, and why now. Geoffrey went back inside, already forgetting the doctor's odd remark, already chalking Shinny's equally odd behavior off to age, weariless, and his own sort of grief. If she could got put an end to her restless tossing and turning, she could at least postpone the moment at which she began it. His stints at the typewriter grew gradually longer as the pain slowly receded and some of his endurance returned. There was a Kreig lock on the pantry door now, and a bolt on the bulkhead almost as thick as his wrist. "The dreaded effword was out before he could help it, but this time it didn't seem to matter — she was looking at him respectfully, and with not a little awe. You had to peer and crane to see anything at all, and more often than not the really important things happened outside your field of vision. Only he was to have bashed her brains in with the fucking typewriter instead of hitting her in the back with it. He could see that the courtroom was crowded with spectators, that the judge, vas bald and wearing glasses. He thought later that the world, in its unfailing perversity, would probably construe those things which he did next as acts of heroism. When she still hadn't returned to put him in his chair by eleven that morning, he determined to get into it himself. As the humming, vibrating blade sank into the softweb of flesh between the soon-to-be-defunct thumb and his first finger, she assured him again in her this-hurts-Mother-more-than-it-hurts Paulie voice that she loved him. Along with dirty birdie and fiddle-de-foof and all the others which I'm sure will come up in time.