janine sits down in front of the tv set. after a moment or two she gets up, turns the set off, and flops back down on the sofa with her vogue.
nicholas tudor lies flat on his back in bed on top of the covers. the physical state of his face, ghastly and cadaverous, is in sharp contrast to his expression, which is ecstatic, beatific, madonna-like.
janine dozes fitfully on the couch, her glasses fallen on to the carpet, her vogue crumpled underneath her. tudor's voice calls to her from the bedroom. it has an eerie, wailing tone to it.
tudor lies on top of janine on their bed. over his shoulder, janine's face is visible, eyes wide open and full of tears. she tries to push tudor away, but he resists.
rollo enters and closes the door behind him, deliberately slamming it. he walks into the center of the living room and bellows.