It was a mass of knick-knacks. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. He was only a younger son, and you know what trouble we had. To my loving parents and brothers, and my Aunts, Gail and Barb. I’d do anything, Vee. Jonathan gave utterance to a low whistle. I speak no harm of her. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude.
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