She turned her deep eyes, accentuated by the thinness of her face, to Jack. “He hurt me, Jack. And I hurt him. But it’s all over. Oh, my God, I’m so grateful I didn’t kill him. Have you ever thought you killed somebody, and tried to go on living with it? It eats you up, it corrodes your brain and your body, it makes you sick, oh, so horribly sick. Oh, Jack....” And he put his arms around her while she wept and Terry watched them in silence. “That bastard,” Jack murmured, comforting her. “That damn bastard. I think I hate him as much as you do, honey.” “No, no, I don’t hate him,” she whispered. “I can’t any more. I never will again. I understand now, so much. Nothing ever made sense before, but now I understand. He was weaker than I was, Jack.” She spoke with wonderment. “He was more afraid of me than I was of him.” It was a strange new feeling this knowledge gave her. “I don’t know quite how I feel about him now. I won’t know for a long time, I guess. But I still love him. I always loved him, even when I hated him the most. I only hope we never meet again. I can stand it if I never have to see him again.” * * * * * Terry fixed her a breakfast, and she ate ravenously. She discovered they had stripped her wet clothes off and put a robe on her the night before while she slept. She pulled the robe close around her while Jack tried to make her tell him where she had been, but he got little satisfaction. “I don’t know,” was all she would say, and when he protested, skeptically, she turned to him, her face earnest, and said, “I don’t know.” “Ahhh, don’t tell _me_,” he said. “I just walked, I guess. It all seems like a nightmare. The first thing I remember after I left Father is eating a bowl of soup. And then I fell asleep.” “Don’t you remember me?” Terry said. “We had a nice little talk last night.” “We did?” She was surprised. “Sure.” He smiled, and made her blush with embarrassment. “I’ll tell you all about it sometime.” He grinned at Jack who gave him a quizzical smile. “So you don’t know where you were?” he prodded Laura. “I swear, Jack.” “Well, we didn’t know either,” he said. “And we damn near lost our minds. We pictured you—well, never mind what we pictured. You had us frantic, I can tell you.” Laura smiled at him a little. “Jack,” she said, and put a hand on his arm. “You’ve been so good to me. I wouldn’t have caused you any worry, only—only—oh, my God. Marcie! I forgot about Marcie. And Beebo.” She turned to him, but he calmed her with a glance, holding her down in her chair. “I called them,” he said. “I called everybody. Even Papa Landon. I told them you were all right, and that’s all. Your father doesn’t know where you are.” Laura hung her head. “Jack, I didn’t have a chance to tell you about Marcie.” “I know. You don’t have to tell me. Marcie did.” “Marcie did?” She looked up amazed.