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Unformatted text preview: he two windows. His windows. And there the Victrola under Antha's window, the little letters VICTOR printed in gold on the wooden lid, which was propped open. Someone was coming up the stairs. "Yes!" He climbed to his feet. His room. The drafting board, his chair. The shelves filled with his books. Victorian Architecture. The His- tory of the Frame House in America. My books. There was a knocking at the door. "Mr. Mike, are you in there? Mr. Mike, Mr. Ryan is on the phone!" L, t\ 3 IS. X-. S\ "Come in, Henri, come in here." Would Henri hear his fear? Would he know? The doorknob turned as if it were alive. The light fell in from the landing, Henri's face so dark with the little chandelier behind him that Michael couldn't see it. "Mr. Mike, it's good news and bad news. She's alive, they've found her in St. Martinville, Louisiana, but she's sick, real sick, they say she can't move or speak." "Christ, they've found her. They know for sure it's Rowan!" He hurried...
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- Spring '10