“Tea is very nice on hot days. Henry hated it, though. He would never drink it. I loved him.” The woman straightened her green dress and stared through Driscoll. Her voice was a distant echo. “I thought I loved him,” she said. “But what does a sixteen-year-old girl know about such things? Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, certainly,” Driscoll said.

“And, oh, he was wild over me. You might not guess it, but I was a very beautiful woman some years ago. The men said so. Henry worshiped me, he said; he called me his little girl. Isn’t that odd?”

“No.”

“Of course, the truth was, he was the child in the family. Ten years older than I was and yet he had no sense of responsibility. I had to take care of everything! And what if I hadn’t? What if I’d gone along with him and lived his kind of life? We would have starved.” She rubbed her hands together and knotted her fingers tightly. “Well, it finally got so I was losing weight from the worry, and I told Henry I would have to leave him. He got on his knees and begged me not to. I said, ‘If you love me, why do you act this way?’ And he said, ‘Laura, this is my honest, bounden word. So help me God, I’ll give you no more heartache!’ He swore on it, and reminded me that at least, for all his carousing and crazy ways, he had never looked at another woman—which was the truth. So I gave him another chance, I told him I wouldn’t leave him if he’d do the right thing.

“He got a job the next day, at a barbershop, I think. And for a while, I thought he had truly reformed, because he always came home on time and without any liquor on his breath, and he did not gamble any at all that I know about. Then on a Thursday night it was, on a Thursday, the first, he was late. I waited three hours, and supper got cold. Then I knew it was all over, and I started packing. I had packed two suitcases when the doorbell rang. It was Henry. I could hear him singing. And I thought, No, I won’t answer. But I have never been strong, the way some women are. So I went to the door and opened it and there he was, drunk, with his hands behind his back. ‘Hello, my little girl!’ he said, and bent down to kiss me. I went crazy then, I think, because I slapped him. It was the first time I had ever slapped anyone in my entire life. It made my palm sting. He stepped back and put out his hands. Do you know what he had in them?”

Driscoll shook his head.