Part 6 He became quite sure, by a sort of accumulation of reflection, as the day wore on. But no more of that. He whispered in her ear. She must not tell Martha about Gerald. They didn’t talk about it much, but Mike had been through some eerily similar foster homes in Florida, the where he was born. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English.
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