260 “Can you turn me into one?” “Yes, I can turn you into one tonight. ” She roused herself from some dream at the word. In you—if you can love me—there is salvation. ” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. ’ ‘Fancy my old pa thinking you was a French spy. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged.
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