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Show 238 picture on the cover was a portrait of the prophet wearing a high Victorian collar and ascot, staring icily at the viewer and looking like a pompous hawk. She covered her mouth. "He has such beady eyes," she said. "He sort of does in that picture," Sorenson said. "I wish they'd used a different one." "He saw through his fingertips once," said Lorin. She looked up. "What?" "It was during a vision," said Lorin. "His whole body was filled with light and he could see out at the ends of his fingers and toes." She stared at him while Sorenson stood in pained silence. Then she tittered once. "Vision," she said. "I'm afraid so," he said. There was complete silence for a few moments, except for the patter of snow that blew against the front window, while she stared at them each in turn. Her lips were pressed tightly together and her face was white behind its sprinkling of freckles. "Did you guys come directly here? I mean did you stop somewhere first before you got here?" "We almost didn't come at all," said Sorenson. "We thought nobody was home." "No, but I mean why right now? Why not five minutes ago?" "We were across the street and saw the light on. We didn't see it before." She put a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were bright and wet as she darted them back and forth, now at Lorin who stood there staring back, his fingers numb around the handle of his attache case, now at Sorenson, |
