She wore the most expensive athletic shoes money could buy in a fashionable black color with neon green laces. 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. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. “No,” said her brother, conclusively, “it’s not for a parent to go on persuading a child. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen.
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