Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. III. She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming. “Then—then we can talk things out. Anna, why will you persist in this single-handed combat with life?” “Don’t!” she cried. She resolved not to allow him or her hunger detract from the performance at hand, as it would be a special one, an evening to be remembered in the gray days to follow like a precious jewel.
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