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Scopolamine for SatanThe glass was struck from Pat's hand, and the water-clear contents streamed into pools and darkening blots over the table and its litter of papers. She stared unseeingly at the mess, without realizing that it was Nick who had dashed the draught from her very lips. She felt neither anger nor relief, but only a numbness, and a sense of anti-c****x. Somewhere below the bell was ringing again, and a door was resounding to violent blows, but she only continued her bewildered, questioning gaze.
"I can't let you, Pat!" he muttered, answering her unspoken query.
"But Nick—why?"
"There's somebody at the door, isn't there? Mustn't we find out who?"
"What difference can it make?" she asked wearily.
"I don't know. I want to find out."
"It's that illusion of hope again,"
