” Two young men on their way down the room came suddenly to a standstill before Anna. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. S. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. “It’s okay.
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