She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. She traced him by his scent. And if she is not a nun, nor a refugee, and yet is entirely English, I’m hanged if I know what she is. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. I am. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. “Do you mind if I tweeze your eyebrows?” Shari asked her. ’ ‘No, I wouldn’t have believed you. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. . I had no idea you were not the happiest girl. . Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there.
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