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People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. ‘But I ain’t been idle, miss, I swear it. She was gone. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy.
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