Because Perry Smith was such a smiling man, I am further disturbed. His wasn’t one of those genial smiles that invite one to relax, but a smile with a hovering quality – one that disguises rather than communicates. And what it hides is not clear either. It has a feel of superiority, a soft quality of mocking; one that says, “Ah, I know why I did what I did, but you’ll never understand. Why ask?”

Now I’m upset because I can’t rationalize. I don’t know what should keep someone from being violent – or bitter, or melancholic, or loving. I don’t know.