“Oh，she’sallright，“hesaid。“Butitisn’tthat——“Thenhestopped；hecouldn’texplain——especiallywiththatidiotAuntAmythere，who’donlylaughathim，orkisshim，orsomethingelsehorrible。
Afterwards，ashewentslowlyuptobed，hestoppedforamomentinthedarkpassagethinking。Thewholehousewassilentabouthim，onlytheclockswhispering。
WhatatiresomebotherAuntAmywas！Howhewishedthatsheweredead！AndwhataboreitwouldbebeinggoodnowwithMissJones。Atthesametime，therenewedconsciousnessofherpersonaldramamoststrangelymovedhim——herbrotherwhorowed，herneuralgia，herlackofrelations。PerhapsAuntAmyalsohadanexcitinghistory！Perhapsshealsocried！
Theworldseemedtobesuddenlyfilledwithpressing，throngingfigures，allwithbusinessesoftheirown。
Itwasveryodd。