She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand. Which are you—Valade or Charvill? Or, no, let me guess. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. 127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time.
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