“But he shook her, lifted her chin so that she had to meet his eyes again, spoke into her ear, the voice of winter in this airless cellar, reminding her of her joys and her mistakes, her loves and her flaws, until she found herself back in her own skin, shaken but able to think. She realized how close she had come, in that dark treasure-room, with reality collapsing like a rotten tree, to going mad.”
