She was unusually helpful at breakfast, and unselfish about the eggs: and then she went off to catch the train before her father’s. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you.
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