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Show 291 This was hard to do, since she had chosen to sit this time on the same side of the room as Lorin, with Richard sitting in her usual place, picking at his ear, and it was impossible to look at her without turning completely on the couch, which was conspicuous. He might have saved himself the trouble anyway, because she was subdued and even a little sulky that night, and said practically nothing, answering Sorenson's programmed questions with a shrug or a "Why not?" She said something bitchy to her husband once when he had asked a civil question, but for the most part she remained silent to the end of the discussion. She offered no resistance, however, when Sorenson, consulting his pocket calendar, set an evening for their next visit. "Probably having her period," Lorin said as they drove home. "Probably," Sorenson said. His girl friend in Dallas was that way at those times. The voices went on, but they began to overlap with another symptom. This one was harder to define, but he was very clear about the occasion of its onset. One Sunday evening Lorin and Sorenson left the house and went out to Sorenson's car to go pick up an investigator and her husband whom they had been accompanying to sacrament meeting for the last couple of weeks. When they got to the car, which was parked under a crude kind of shelter built onto the family's garage, Lorin noticed he had forgotten his instant-preparation book. While Sorenson warmed up the car he went back to get it. Passing through the living room he nodded at the two teenage children and the father who were watching television and looked up at him in surprise. "Just me again," said Lorin. He hurried down the hallway to the back bedroom, put his hand on the knob, and froze there. For one brief, insane moment he had never seen this door or its knob before in his life; he had never been in this hallway before. He had no idea who those |