“What’s the count now?” asked Ruth. “Sixty-three. What could they mean?” Reine-Marie asked Myrna, their resident psychologist. “Why would someone spend more than half a century secretly collecting monkeys?” “The question isn’t why monkeys,” said Ruth. “The question is why a secret?” “She’s right,” said Myrna, turning astonished eyes on the mad poet at the other end of the sofa.
