Raj finally reappeared, holding the scissors from her sewing box. When she took them, Raj walked out the back door without a word.

“I’ll drive you home, hon,” Ruth said.

“What happened to Raj?” Annie looked through the kitchen.

“I don’t know. Judy, would you like a ride home?”

It took a second for Judy to uproot her gaze from Annie. She checked her watch. As she did with every gesture of kindness, she made it seem like an imposition. “You’re going to make me feel like Mrs. Porter; she drives the twenty yards to her mailbox.”

Ruth couldn’t suppress her irritation. “If you want to come, come. If you don’t, don’t. Let’s go, hon.” She helped Annie, who now looked embarrassed and confused, to her feet.

Judy didn’t respond but followed them out and got into the back of the Model A.

Ruth stopped at Judy’s first. Judy didn’t make a move to leave the car for a moment. Finally, she said, “You two aren’t going to sit here gossiping, are you?”

“Gossiping about what?” Ruth said, unable to hide the impatience in her voice.

“People’s private matters—what else do people gossip about? Things they should keep to themselves.” With this she got out of the car.

As Ruth drove on, Annie said, “Miss Winters, is Raj going back to England?”

“That’s where his family is,” Ruth replied, a little sharply.

Annie toyed with the hem of her dress, and Ruth stole a glance at her beautiful thick hair, black and curly, that strong, strange face slightly absurd upon those scruffy limbs. She wanted to tell her to sit up straight, not to be ashamed of her height and long limbs. She wished she could teach her how to hold herself. What was so captivating was the contrast of the wild young life of her with the thingness of her face—yes, a thing, a beautiful object, to be coveted. And it was easy to covet Annie, because no one seemed to have any real claim on her. She was neither like her father, that ridiculous marionette, nor her mother, that big morose blonde. Sorry she had snapped at her, Ruth wanted to tell Annie what a relief it was when she and Raj had come in, breaking the suffocating grip of that woman. It was as if her home had suddenly drawn breath. Released it, rather—with the shout of their heedless youth.

“Was it frightening, finding her dead?”

“It was awful.” Annie looked at her. “It was awful that she was alone. Not that there’s anything wrong with being alone,” Annie added quickly. “Nora was so good. Raj, Lew, and me—we were just useless.”

“What about Alvin?”

After a moment, Annie said, “I don’t remember where he was.”

They pulled up outside the store. Frank was smoking on the stoop.

Ruth got out. “Your sister cut her foot. She might need stitches.”

He got up immediately, flicking away his cigarette. Ruth opened Annie’s door and Frank lifted her out.