It seemed older than Rome, and the stone covering it gave resistance. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. " Spurlock lowered his voice. But at least it gave her more time. Here goes. She paused.
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