He sends them all his love and an admonition to be sure the babies don’t go outside without proper shoes. This is so important for their health! he says. “You see how your father is always thinking of you,” Mother says, though it sounds as if he is thinking of Edwin and Asia, not June and Rosalie. He sends no money.

The babies are supposed to be napping, but Rosalie can still hear Asia talking to herself up in the loft. She’s getting louder and Mother is worried she’ll wake Edwin, so Rosalie goes upstairs to lie down with her. Asia does everything wholeheartedly. When she sleeps, she sweats with the effort of it. Soon there is a damp spot on Rosalie’s sleeve where Asia’s head has been. It smells like sour milk.

By the time Asia is settled, June has already finished his dinner and gone. Mother is still at the table, her forehead on one bent arm, her food untouched. Rosalie can see the sharp line of white scalp where Mother’s hair is parted. Rosalie’s breath turns to thorns in her throat. “Mother?” Rosalie asks.

Mother raises her face. It’s flushed and wet.

She hands Rosalie the second letter from Charleston, this one from Thomas Flynn. Flynn is Father’s manager as well as his closest friend. He’d accompanied Father to Charleston at Mother’s request, to keep an eye on things. His letter is an apology for having failed to do so. His handwriting is cramped and uneven. Rosalie has a hard time with it, but she does make it out at last.

As the boat took them down to Charleston, Mr. Flynn has written, Rosalie’s father became increasingly obsessed with Elder Conway, an actor acquaintance who’d drowned himself several years back in these same Atlantic waters. Father asked to be alerted when they reached the exact spot, though of course no one knew the exact spot, but the captain eventually said they were now somewhere in the vicinity.

Father had waited for Mr. Flynn to be distracted, then gone out, swung himself over the upper railing, and dropped noisily onto the promenade deck. This didn’t go unnoticed. A crowd gathered on the deck above, calling for him to climb back. He looked up at all their faces. “I have a message for Conway,” he shouted and then he jumped.

He was half a mile behind the ship, floating in the frigid waters, by the time the captain could get the safety boat to him. Mr. Flynn said that Rosalie’s father had scolded him for nearly upsetting the boat while pulling him aboard. “My goodness, Tom, you’ll drown us all if you’re not more careful,” Rosalie’s father had said.

“I hope my letter reaches you before you hear about this elsewhere,” Mr. Flynn has written. “By the time we arrived in Charleston, there was already considerable press.”