“He was waiting for them as they came round the broad bend of the river that gave onto town, and from the look of him, Sess figured he’d been waiting for hours, though the agreed-upon time was twelve noon and it couldn’t have been more than eleven-fifteen or eleven-thirty yet. It was an ugly day, overcast and close. The river was the color of the sky and the sky was the color of the primer you saw on pickups and wagons awaiting the benediction of paint. It was drizzling. The air smelled tainted,... as if everything in the water, the woods and the sky had fallen down dead and gone to rot.All the way down in the canoe Pamela kept chirping away about this or that—a moose in the shallows, an explosion of ducks, her mother’s bad feet and her sister’s reprobate of a boyfriend—but if he’d given her six words back it would have surprised him. He was feeling sour, sour and hateful, and he didn’t care if she knew it. He dug savagely at his paddle, sprinting the last two hundred yards as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of her, and in one compartment of his mind he was thinking he ought to take Howard Walpole aside and tell him what a pain in the ass she was, what a complete and utter screwup and bitch, but he knew it wouldn’t work.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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