“You remember Mrs. Berling?” he went on. “She is married again.”
“Is she?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He began to tell her about the local office for outgoing mails, where a nephew of her husband, Paytor, had taken a job.
The child sat so still that it was painful and Julie Anspacher moved away, thinking aloud:
“All is corruption.”
The child started, and looked quickly away, as children will at something that they expect but do not understand. The driver beat the horses, until long lines of heavy froth appeared at the edges of the harness.
“What did you say, ma’am?”
“Nothing—I said all is lost from the beginning—if we only saw it—always.”
The child looked at her slowly, puzzled, and looked down.