“I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. ’” She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy trills and flourishes at every phrase. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow. . . Are these folks your current foster parents?” “Yes. “Yes. Her thoughts took words for themselves. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry.
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