” Michelle said, tossing her glossy ponytail defiantly. If you can imagine it, I survived it. I know now that I was mistaken. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. When the twins had first come to live in the 208 house, they were thin and bony, their tiny mouths crying for food. “I’d have to sneak out after everyone was asleep.
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