“We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. ” “Not in the least,” she assured him. But a far greater affliction was in store for her. “No, she just worries that I’ll go Satanic and start chomping the heads off of bats and mice or something. But the aunt seized her in her arms and rocked with her.
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