“Are you angry with me?”
“I thought I had walked out of a nightmare,” I said. “I find I'm still in it.”
“But don't be angry with me. It was the only way.”
“The only way to, or out of, what?” I asked, bewildered.
“Never mind.”
She looked at me with a singular expression in her slumbrous eyes. It was sad, wistful, soothing, and gave me the idea of a noble woman making a senseless sacrifice.
“There is no earthly reason to do this on account of Dale,” I protested.
“Dale has nothing to do with it.”
“Then who has?”
“Anastasius Papadopoulos,” she said with undisguised irony.