“It is your sister and her husband,” he said. Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes. And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil. He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream.
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