Sublime

My mother hated Uncle Roger’s wife, her aunt Rose. Why? She had an operation on her stomach, and when Nana and I walked into her hospital room, she said to the people there, “And these are my poor relations.” My mother clung to that story. She wasn’t classy like Aunt Rose or Uncle Roger, but she wasn’t poor enough to be called poor. I carefully rem

“I was planning to hyphenate?” “Winthrop-Woodcock is no better, babe.”

She’s wearing a pistachio Ultrasuede shift that’s probably too fancy for this affair, though McAnnis suspects that Susan Burr stopped caring long ago about the looks she elicits from other women.

Viola imposed upon her lover but a short probation. They were married, as was becoming, with great privacy, – almost with secrecy, – in the hope perhaps, as was waggishly remarked at the time, that the late Mrs Lloyd wouldn’t hear of it.

Sylvia D’Agostino Born 1958 in Leith, Scotland, the daughter of Eduardo D’Agostino, the poet.

It very soon came to be predicted that he would marry again, and there were at least a dozen young women of whom one may say that it was by no fault of theirs that, for six months after his return, the prediction did not come true.

They were good sisterly friends, betwixt whom it would take more than a day for the seeds of jealousy to sprout and bear fruit; but the young girls felt that the seeds had been sown on the day that Mr Lloyd came into the house. Each made up her mind that, if she should be slighted, she would bear her grief in silence, and that no one should be any

“Factors? Like you just can’t wait to be Mrs. Woodcock? Because no one wants that as a last name.