The car ride to the new movie theater, a multiplex, was brief and harrowing. "One motive alone shall induce me to go on with you," said Jack. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. Stars appeared in the periphery of her vision. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Marry, come up! I'll show him what an injured wife can do.
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