She looked down tassels of his shiny shoes with a scowl. But there was a face pressed to the glass. A doubt as to your dinner to-morrow would make you miserable to-night. ” “It was exceedingly wrong of you,” Anna declared. Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork. 255 “You have a very talented son,” was her opening line. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. The fever came. He slapped his knee. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so.
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