“—Lord Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto III “Now who are you?” The little girl rolled her eyes. “Rose. And that’s Peter, and that’s Thomas. And we’re supposed to tell you that we don’t have any keys.” Saint pursed his lips. Evelyn had sent the babies to him, evidently deciding they were the ones he was least likely to harm. “And you don’t have my chair, either.” “Miss Evie said you have to show good fate first.” “Good faith, you mean?” he corrected. “I don’t know, because I’m only seven ...years old. Are you going to read to us now?” The older of the two boys, Peter, shoved a storybook at him. Obviously Evelyn had instructed them not to get too close, because all three had plunked themselves in the dirt in the corner beside the door. He picked up the book and opened it. “Did Miss Evie say why I’m supposed to read to you?” “So you can have a chair,” Thomas answered. “And so you’ll like us,” Peter continued. “So I’ll like you?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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