“We can look the truth square in the face. Or we can bury it again. Or, at least try.” To a casual observer they would appear to be two old friends discussing literature or the latest concert at the village hall. But someone more astute might notice their expressions. Not grave, but perhaps a little somber on this lovely, sunny day. “What happens if people try to bury it again?” Gamache asked. “I don’t know about normal human beings, but for alcoholics it’s lethal. A secret that rotten will drive you to drink. And the drink will drive you to your grave. But not before it steals everything from you. Your loved ones, your job, your home. Your dignity. And finally, your life.” “All because of a secret?” “Because of a secret, and the decision to hide from the truth. The choice to chicken out.” She looked at him closely. “Sobriety isn’t for cowards, Chief Inspector. Whatever you might think of an alcoholic, to get sober, really sober demands great honesty, and that demands great courage. Stopping drinking’s the easy part. Then we have to face ourselves. Our demons. How many people are willing to do that?”