“But you’re a psychic.” “Exactly.” Adam had laid out his words as carefully as they’d put down their cards on the table. “Am I?” “Of course,” one of the other ladies had said. “Did you think you’d lost everything when Cabeswater died?” “Yes,” Adam had whispered, and Opal had felt a rush of love for him. She loved him the best when he was very sad or very serious or very happy. Something about his voice breaking filled her with feeling, and something about the vacancy of his expression when he was thinking hard felt like she was looking at a dream with nothing bad in it, and something about
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