“I don’t think she cared for me, really ... she was an only child.”
Mag’s chuckle pealed up into a little festoon of clear laughter.
“She doesn’t care for you because—she’s—an—only—child” she shook out.
“One of the sheltered ones.” Jan returned to her chiffon pleats. She was making conversation. She did not care how much or how little Alma mattered.
“She’s sheltered now anyhow—she’s married.”
“She’s married is she?”
Polite tones ... they were not a bit surprised ... both faces looked calm and abstracted. The room was dark and clear in the cold entanglement. It must be got over now, as if she had not mentioned Alma. She felt for her packet of cigarettes with an uneasy face, watching Mag’s firm movements as she rearranged herself and her dressing gown in her chair.
“How old is she?”
“About my age.”