There was such a valley, he knew that now. A trough of years. He would not, could not, say he had never suspected that such geography existed, but how in God’s name could he have suspected so little?
Henry had unrolled the top of the bag and looked inside. What he saw there, lying on top of the box of lemon-flavored glycerine swabs, transfixed him. He replied to Owen, but his voice seemed to be coming from the far end of some previously undisclosed—hell, unsuspected—valley. There was such a valley, he knew that now. A trough of years. He would not, could not, say he had never suspected that such geography existed, but how in God’s name could he have suspected so little? “They just passed Exit 29,” he said.
“Twenty miles behind us now. Maybe even closer.”
