He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. “It was a plot amongst them all to humiliate her. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. There are two ways to go in, you understand. ‘Wait for me. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. Only now it does not matter at all because Joan has come and has seen me.
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