Dale tugged the covers over his head and began to cry. It was too much. How could one man be expected to take this all in? How could he be left alone at a time like this? He thought back to the paper Lyra had shown him before the disastrous dinner . . . maybe she hadn’t wanted him to be left alone. And he’d rejected her. Not even with words; he hadn’t been kind enough to do that much. He’d just dropped the subject like it didn’t matter. Maybe the dream with her in it had been his subconscious giving him the kick in the butt he deserved.