" The tone was neutral. “I want to make you happy, Lucy. His name is John. I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat anything. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. White Sears special-order orthopedic shoes, polyester pants, and cotton print blouses were her usual weekend attire. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. Immortal! You were in the beginning, and all the men in the world who have known what love is have worshipped at your feet.
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