I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. He held her eyes. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. I'm his lieutenant,—Lieutenant Blueskin. ‘What a fate he finds for me.
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