" "Well, Sir," gasped Mrs. ’ ‘Aye, but she don’t reckon to militiamen. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. Her gown was minimalist compared to those concoctions of boning and lace of long ago, she reflected, but that did not stop it from getting caught on 134 brambles and twigs. . As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. No, don’t interrupt me.
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