Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. I'll keep it for your sake. But Jonathan was not to be deterred. "Give me till to-morrow," implored she, "and if I can bring myself to part with him, you shall have him without another word. "But never mind who, or what I am. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss.
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