Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. “I do not know. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. “Michelle said that your mom was a suspect because she ran away, visited some boyfriend of hers and then ran off into the night. And, if Rachel had not carried a candle, the room would have been plunged in total darkness. Perhaps in the beginning the women made fools of themselves over him. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Sepulchre's clock struck eight.
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