She rooted in her handbag for the directions she'd written out forherself from the A to Z. Libby scooted herself to the table, half-turned towards me, and shereached for the picture, saying, What've you got? And then when shesaw, she said, Oh. You're not my husband yet, darling, Jill informed him pleasantly eachtime he protested. It's the wrong way.
And then the baby was killed. He wasstanding attentively, his instrument in his hand, gazing up at LordMenuhin who was in turn gazing down at him, instrument also in hand,smiling beneficently. Mummy? she whispered again. mine, really-would ever keep me from feeling happiness for yours.
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