Uncle Jeb," we croaked in surprise. "You found us." "Well, now," he said, and his gruff voice brought back a hundred memories. "Well, now, here's a pickle.

There really is something irresistible about a lost cause.

But the absence of him is everywhere I look. It's like a huge hole has been punched through my chest.

I almost took the door off the car

Can't you just thank me and get over it?" "Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant. "You're not going to let it go, are you?" "No." "In that case . . . I hope you enjoy disappointment." We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel. "Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly. He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable. "I don't know," he whispered.

I was just wondering why you stabbed him. Not that I object.

I'd rather know what you're thinking - even if what you're thinking is insane.