When everyone else was asleep, Melony turned her reading light back on; whatever failure Jane Eyre might be for someone else, it had always worked for Melony—it had helped her—and she felt in need of its help, now. She read another twenty pages, or so, but Homer Wells would not leave her mind. “I must part with you for my whole life,” she read, with horror. “I must begin a new existence amongst strange faces and strange scenes.” The truth of that closed the book for her, forever.
