I don’t want to Bowdlerize Shakespeare. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. Stow it in the saddle, for I will take it with me. My late husband, I mean. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. "There won't be much left for you," he said. I secured the dog after he had wounded me. His father and his four brothers had perished, leaving him to collect all of their spoils and various kingdoms.
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