It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. "I don't think he would leave me, even if I could part with him," observed Mrs. ’ ‘I don’t, as a matter of fact,’ Gerald said decidedly, a frown creasing his brow. "Don't you know me, mother?" "Ah!" shrieked Mrs. "I've got a proposition to make," said O'Higgins. One of your arms shall be drawn to one side of the room, and the other arm to the other side, and your legs shall be served in the like manner. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. ‘Never mind that now.
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