There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. “Because you used to be my friend, Lucy, and now I don’t get to see you anymore unless I can get into your house. \"I'll have to call and tell Cathy. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever.
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