“You must come in. Clara’s away for the day. But I’ve been so eager to meet Clara’s friends.”
The taller one nodded.
—What does she recognize, that she nods, in my words?
“My name is Sennister—Susan Sennister. This is Miss Liebovitz.”
Fanny took a hand, white in its feel beneath the long glove, and took a hand small like a child’s, warm and ruddy: gloveless.
“Do sit down.”
Miss Sennister looked at her companion. “Guess we got time, Tessie?”
“Sure we have,” she smiled. “We really came to have a glimpse of you.” Her smile was rounder.
“I’m glad,” said Fanny. She looked at Susan Sennister, to make her also smile. It would help matters. Miss Sennister smiled. But the smile did not help. It hurt.
“I have been sick.... Probably you know. And Clara’s been an angel.”