“I don’t think,” Agnes now said, slowly and with the slightest inkling of a frown between the dark brows that were so like their father’s, “that you can fix however many years of him playing us off against one another by just having a little three-way chat and hoping he feels our combined wrath, or whatever. You know?” And here she looked to Irene, the first indication so far that she cared about Irene’s opinion. “I mean, we are what we are by now, aren’t we?”
