Alice could see Delphine’s future laid out ahead of them clearly; it was her own she couldn’t imagine. When she tried, she saw something hazy and indistinct. It gave her a knot in her stomach.

Politeness, they believed, was only to be directed at those who ranked lower than you, who served you in some way.

It was then that a memory sprang forcefully to the front of his mind: something the boy had said once about his grandfather, in passing, that Carl had brushed aside.

the phrase was at once so cruel and so poetic that it clicked into place around her like a harness.

At a certain point Alice realized neither she nor Mrs. Van Laar had said a word for the better part of an hour, and no one else seemed to notice or mind, and she had the sudden realization that she was a consumable good being evaluated for purchase by the two men at the table, with Delphine as auctioneer.

It was funny, she thought, how many relationships one could have with the same man, over the course of a lifetime together.

“Panic,” said T.J. But no one raised a hand. She explained. It came from the Greek god Pan: the god of the woods. He liked to trick people, to confuse and disorient them until they lost their bearings, and their minds. To panic, said T.J., was to make an enemy of the forest. To stay calm was to be its friend.

The driver, uncomfortably chatty, had asked questions of them that horrified Alice with their intimacy.

Judy’s mother, who has been silent this whole time, suddenly takes Judy’s cup from her. Pours her more tea. She is a visitor in their home, now; a guest. The realization makes Judy feel proud and sorrowful at the same time.