He started to say things in a jocular tone, like, “I am going to hit you so hard your jaw is hanging by a thread.” Or, “I would like to serve you a little espresso cup of shit.” He pointed out some physical flaws she had not yet noticed, such as her lack of a real ass, and called her breasts “big old droopy milk wagons” in a jokey, confusing voice. He also disparaged her photography, after a time. He told her that her mushy, middle-class, pretentious upbringing made it impossible for her ever to do great work, that only working-class people had ever done anything worthwhile. He recited lists to prove it. She felt he was right. He told her that her work was clearly made by a female, that it was girls’ pictures. He had heard from someone working on a shoot with her that she was not highly regarded by the crew. He taught her how to cull her images mercilessly, disregarding all but the best. He had a great eye. She no longer trusted her own judgment, and constantly asked him to review her selects. Then one day he wondered out loud why Justine’s father had allowed her mother to be cared for by strangers in a hospice at the end of her life, something she had confided to him. Justine said she thought it was because he was afraid of making a mistake with her care. Joseph said it was typical middle-class coldness, an inability to face real life. And this was a terrible thing to contemplate, because Justine’s father had avoided her mother in the last months—however much he loved her, he delegated her to strangers at the humiliating end, popping in to hold her hand once a day and make a few cheerful remarks, unable to face what was happening. It was a moral failure that Joseph had laid bare. One by one, with amazing efficiency, operating entirely by instinct, Joseph was removing the things that had made Justine believe in herself. And she allowed him to do this, allowed it like a person whose home is broken into and watches, silent and afraid, as all their valuables are taken. Sometimes, Joseph could be very kind, nearly angelic. In these moments, Justine loved him absolutely. It was as though she had been bewitched, all her strength sapped away.