His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. Joan told me it was hung somewhere in the house, only I couldn’t remember where after all this time. Just me and another girl named Krista who turned eighteen and left right about when I got there. “Dare!” she said. She then opened Lucy’s meager closet and plucked out a pair of heeled boots usually reserved for weddings and funerals. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. Run along while I rig up and get the part in my hair straight. When I absorb a fact, my brain weighs the fact carefully and stores it away. .
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