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They heard voices inside but stood for a full thirty seconds looking at each other. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. E. But in the early days of her abduction, she did not allow him to touch her. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. “Yes.

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