Vorsack rose from the table and departed for the bathroom, mumbling something about a Tylenol. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. She hoped to turn him off with the mention of Study Halls and detentions, as there were no such animals in 204 Martin’s world of high pressure academics. ‘Let me see if our minds are attuned. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it.
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