” She side-stepped into his living room from behind a square white column. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. She may address me as “Grandfather” if she chooses, since I’m obliged to accept her in that capacity. . He was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. There were menacing possibilities; the thought of them set him a-tremble. She resolved not to allow him or her hunger detract from the performance at hand, as it would be a special one, an evening to be remembered in the gray days to follow like a precious jewel. The one problem was that it didn’t fly. Section 1. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer.
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