Harpo thrust his legs into the lake. It was frigid. The sun was just starting to rise, and it looked like a b****y eye, and it wasn’t doing anything to warm anything, so what was the point? The whole thing was stupid anyway, because he’d come out to see a ghost, and William wasn’t here. This morning, he’d woken up alone, had forgotten that he hadn’t brought a girl back to his room last night, and when he’d stretched out his fingers and toes and felt that expanse of soft white sheets, he hadn’t even felt the thrill of the chase. He’d just felt lonely.
The lapping water wet his bunched up pants to the knees and he was taking a perverse pleasure in letting them get wet higher and higher. He’d catch a chill. He might get pneumonia. People died of that. He might die of it. Then his brothers wo
