“That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. Her lips were dry and cracked. The small bed’s hospital corners had been put into disarray by Michelle’s crying fit. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him. At times I swear I’ve never met a more jaded fifteen-year-old, and your lie about being sixteen didn’t get by me for one second, believe it.
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