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Lucy could feel blood welling underneath a bump half swelling and already half-healing on her scalp. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. " "You will never become that, Ruth. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ agreed Gerald with a grin. They stopped talking, except to each other. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. “What if you get pregnant?” His worry came to a quick fruition.

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