He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. He taught her how to read and write in Latin and Greek, often rewarding her for her efforts with a flower or a trinket. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Boldly he turned the knob of a certain door and entered. But I see now. Caliban, who, through the interest of Mr. Not these twenty year. Manning. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave.
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