He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. The thought of beauty became an obsession. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. My last foster father in Alabama before the Becks was a heavy drug abuser.
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