“Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. I guess those books are okay because they are fiction. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. We'll celebrate that check, and let the rest of the world go hang. “Mr. ‘Not where we’re going.
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