There was no mistaking his intentions this time. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. She listened, her suspicions confirmed. We shall have Mr. I have squeezed three kids into it afore now. He embraced her like her father once had. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. His spirits began to rise. Anna picked up an ancient magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie.
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