And the first slashing stroke came down. A piteous howling cry was torn from Belle’s throat and her head jerked violently up. Her hate had turned in...o a resolve not to give these bestial sadists the kind of pleasure they wanted. Not too soon, anyway. But that very first stroke was worse than her imagination had let her believe it would be. The cry woke one of the dozers in a far corner of the room ... and the card-players gazed with satisfaction on the tracery of pink-red weals that had sprung. Andy watches me silently and I’m afraid to talk. I haven’t said a word in English and rack my mind for something to say. ‘God, Stephanie,’ he says incredulously. His voice again brings me back to our telephone conversations, the closest we had ever gotten to each other before now. ‘I thought you were dead back there.’ He starts to cry. I rise slightly and hold him, crying myself. After carefully rehearsing the English, I say to him: ‘I’m glad you came.’ Still crying, he violently kisses my. More

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