“Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. "I'm not going to get rid of you just yet. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. She must speak to Jack. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. Her foster parents had attended the concert in their finest clothes, Cathy in a new JC Penney dress, Larry in a suit that was too small. A discreet husband would leave the dispensation of his bounty, where women are concerned, to his wife.
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