He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. Perhaps for the first time he realized that Anna was by no means an ordinary person. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. I got myself locked up to cool off.
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