"So you're back for good?"
"Yes."
"Well, we're mighty glad to have you."
Fiddle Flippin, dancing and doubling up on Randy's knee like a very soft doll, suddenly held out her arms to her mother.
As Mary leaned forward to take her, Randy was aware of the change in her. In the old days Mary had been a gay little thing, with an impertinent tongue. She was not gay now. She was a Madonna, tender-eyed, brooding over her child.
"She has changed a lot," Randy said, as they drove on.
"Why shouldn't she change?" Becky demanded.
"Wouldn't any woman change if she had loved a man and had let him go to France?"