When she woke in the morning, she knew that all she had felt and seen and known had not been a dream brought on by the melancholy excitement of the day. Frances Caskey knew for certain that whatever it was that previously had been confined to the misshapen closet had somehow been allowed to range freely. What was worse was Frances’s conviction that some time she would again say, “Come in, John Robert,” and not reach the door in time to lock it.
Gaaaah... Why did I have to keep reading so close to bedtime? WHY?!?!?