“I’ve never bought that argument,” Devil grumbled. “Never?” Grace’s brows rose. “Is this a discussion that is had often?” “It’s Hattie’s theory,” Whit grumbled. “I don’t like it”—he turned his attention to his wife—“as he exploded her.” “Again,” Hattie said quite happily, “I was only slightly exploded.” Grace looked to Hattie, feeling a bit like she’d been given too little laudanum and was hallucinating instead of sleeping. “Slightly exploded?” Whit grunted his irritation. Hattie waved a hand through the air. “And only because he didn’t get to me in time.”
