She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. In the middle there was a gate. They had a universe to talk about—two universes. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. Across the blackboard the colored chalks flew like flights of variously tinted rockets as diagram after diagram flickered into being. “NOW!” said Ann Veronica. " "Do you want me to tell her that I am grateful?" "Well, aren't you?" "I don't know; I really don't know. " "Where?" "At Yale.
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