She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. And we men would work for them and serve them in loyal fealty. I—I hurt myself. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. A pig, yes, a little. Ann Veronica readjusted her chin on her hand.
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