33/269 She had seen a little procession winding along the road to the cemetery the morning after her arrival. Nothing mattered now that Marty, even Marty, had done this thing while she had been waiting for him to come and take her across the bridge, anxious to play the game to the very full, eager to prove to him that she was no longer the kid that he thought her who had coolly shown him her door. "I am here, Death," she whispered, "and I want you. Come for me." All her first feelings were that she ought to die, that she had failed and that her disillusion as to Marty had been directly brought about by herself. |