His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. It was better even than the hymn-singing. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. But Darrell averted his head. She despises me, I suppose. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. You’ll end up dead, that’s what. She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her.
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