Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. " "Ruth what?" "Enschede; Ruth Enschede. He sent me flowers. Grandmothers and grandfathers and uncles and aunts … to love and to coddle lonely little girls. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. Her face expressed nothing. “Want one?” Michelle deadpanned. “What’s the objection?” “I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the key of the conversation.
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