Michael Malone - Weebly

that well."
"Doesn't matter a bit, I doubt anyone does. Well,
whatever you decide. Now, I should let you get back to
work. I should get back to work. Frankly, the blessed
fact that those hordes of junior Visigoths are actually
going home Monday is almost enough to make me start
igniting candles at an altar!"
The door closed, the car rumbled down the gravel
drive.
Jonathan stood motionless. Though Saar's fingers
had barely brushed his skin, his face burned as if he had
been slapped. He could hear his heart. The sound
frightened him, and he hurried out of the cottage.
When the curate neared the haven of the apostate
Ramona Dingley, he saw his spiritual charge hurtling in
her wheelchair straight down her steep driveway
toward the street. He rushed up the sidewalk to fling
himself on the machine, but she managed her turn and
shot past him. He noticed she was laughing.
"Miss Dingley? Miss Dingley. Are you all right?"
Jonathan panted, his head bent and his hands on his