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272 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1967

Perhaps identity, like hell, was merely other people.
'Do you ever feel that the world is not enough?' Peggy had asked him that at least twice. Ray had wanted to find out from her how the world was not enough, and Peggy had finally said she meant that the stars and the atoms, the systems of religion which stretch the imagination and still remain unfinished, and all painting and music--all this was not enough, and the human mind (or maybe the soul for Peggy) desired more.By now, I've read most of Patricia Highsmith's novels and a good number of her short stories.

He stood again at the window. And by God, he swore to himself, if that bastard is still alive and hanging around Venice, I'll get him. Ray Garrett was asking for it, that was the funny part. His eyes were begging for it.