Jasmine Yale jumped off the sofa, glaring at a certain calm and shameless individual.
She straightened her sweater and put the recorder on the table.
"Here's your thing back."
Unexpectedly, Sylvan Cheney stretched out a hand and caught hold of her wrist.
The coolness in his stern eyes was icy, as though spread with a layer of frost, devoid of much warmth.
"Where are you going?"
"Weren't you going to rest? I won't disturb you, I'll go back to my room."
In fact, because of what happened yesterday, she had only slept a couple of hours last night.
After Ann Nolan had left, she had tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep.
He hadn't answered her calls, and she had thought that something had really happened to him.
Little Chale, on the other hand, had slept soundly, calling out 'mom' and 'dad' in his dreams throughout the night.
Now, knowing the truth, her heart had finally eased.
Seeing that Sylvan was unharmed, she was relieved.
