Kevin Chen, Martin’s father, was equally stately, his dark brown eyes bright with the fire of extreme intelligence. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. There were probably others buried around the 13 house, she had seen a suspicious working refrigerator in the back of the garage mess, but she wasn’t about to check it out. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him. For his own part he could not sufficiently admire the pluck of this lady, who, notwithstanding all that she had been through, had chosen to appear this evening rather than break her engagement. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. Mirrors. He was all alone, too. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet.
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