She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. She could not hide her face. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. Annabel looked up and down the empty street, and then turned to her sister. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. "You won't betray him.
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