I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. The latch had not fully caught. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. So long as she stood beside him, the Hand would not prevail. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet.
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