. His favorite newspaper was the Times, which he began at breakfast in the morning often with manifest irritation, and carried off to finish in the train, leaving no other paper at home. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. Heedless, however, of the consequences, he pursued his task. Hell, my mom hates everyone, don’t take this personally, but she doesn’t like you very much and she isn’t shy about letting me know. So long as she stood beside him, the Hand would not prevail. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her.
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