“...You have a problem, de Winter?" The words left her mouth before her brain filtered them. "Yes, it’s blond, green-eyed, and thinks it’s a god.”

“What a time to have a brain-to-mouth filter malfunction.”

“Why don’t you purchase an Italian dictionary? I will assume the expense.”“I have one,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s very good. Half the words are missing.”“Half?”“Well, some,” she amended. “But truly, that’s not the problem.”He blinked, waiting for her to continue.She did. Of course. “I don’t think Italian is the author’s native tongue,” she said.“The author of the dictionary?” he queried.“Yes. It’s not terribly idiomatic.”

“Jane?” She lifted her brows. “Yes?”“If you so much as hum one word, I shall stuff one of your gloves into your mouth.” “Tsk,tsk.”She assumed an exaggerated sad look.“It’s like that,is it?”

“I wipe at her cheeks with the cuff of my green sweater because it’s the softest thing I can think of. It catches her tears without absorbing them, and they hang between the fibers like stars.”

“I certainly ain’t saying it’s impossible. But Ada, look at Perry. Do you think that’s what is happening?”She rolled her eyes and slammed the bat against her palm. “Holy fuck, yes, you retard! You have some inbreeding going down there in the South? Is that what’s wrong with you?”