"Widowed."
Kramer nodded. There were plenty of widows and widowers outside. Too many. But it wasn't much worse than in the Institute where, despite precautions, Thurston's disease took its toll of life.
"Did they tell you this place is called the suicide section?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Weren't you frightened?"
"Of dying? Hardly. Too many people are doing it nowadays."
He grimaced, looking more satanic than ever. "You have a point," he admitted, "but it isn't a good one. Young people should be afraid of dying."
"You're not."
"I'm not young. I'm thirty-five, and besides, this is my business. I've been looking at death for eleven years. I'm immune."
"I haven't your experience," she admitted, "but I have your attitude."