‘It couldn’t be. I’d been dead for years when this happened.’ ‘Then how…?’ I asked. ‘Like you, the main person in this story used to l...sten to my stories. I became part of her, as you become part of me, and I experienced her life as you have felt mine through involvement in my stories. How doesn’t really matter. You know that it happens. It did for her too. Now just listen while I tell you about the Valentine’s Day party of 1922. She was the daughter of the neighbouring squire. She was several. A fair number of them she’d rather liked. She still had many an old summer girlfriend that she kept in tough with via letters or as was now more common, over the internet. She’d even casually dated a few big city boys. So no, Lindi Quinn really didn’t have any pathological aversion to these teeming outsiders. She simply held the small town opinion, usually kept politely to herself, that a large portion of them had the unfortunate tendency to behave like braying, jackass jackals. So she simply. More

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