At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. . He would read the jokes and illustrate them; and after a time I could see the point of a joke without having it explained to me. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship. ” “Two words only,” Hill repeated.
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