Their differing approaches made them a good pair, an effective Huntsmen team. He preferred to focus his studies on things that he could affect directly, the more intimate picture. Even word of a peace treaty ending the war in Serbia now seemed overcast with doubt.Īaron thought she worried overmuch about what happened in the larger world. But the news had been cast under a bad moon that week. She sighed and turned the page, looking for lighter fare. President Wilson had made a speech down in Alabama, claiming that the United States would not seek to claim more territory through conquest, a promise everyone must know he would break. ![]() When her brother simply continued glaring at her, she chuckled and went back to her newspaper. “I’m not sure any of those would be safe to burn, anyway.” It was a Huntsman’s library: there were things on those aged pages that were not safe to be spoken out loud, much less set free in a puff of smoke. “You know I would never do that.” She scanned the nearest bookshelf, burnished leather spines squared neatly behind glass panes. Her brother was so easy to rile, it almost wasn’t amusing. “If we keep the books dry, we can burn those to stay warm.”Īaron lifted his head sharply, first to glance worriedly at the books lining the walls between windows, and then to glare at his sister. She made a humming noise deep in her throat. Would you rather stay dry, or stay warm?” “We can afford to fix it,” her brother said, not lifting his nose from the book he was reading. After one particularly windy blast, Rosemary Harker looked up from the newspaper she was reading, mentally gauging the probable damage to the roof. That afternoon, a storm had wrapped around the house on Crider Street and was busily rattling the windows, an occasional scrape of hail mixing with the rain. ![]() NOVEMBER HAD SETTLED into New Haven like a petulant child, alternating between raining tantrums and bitterly cold sulks.
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