She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. " "Go, Mr. “I get that a lot. You would steal from me then the only man I ever cared a snap of the fingers about. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. You are right. He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. I often wonder why the young always take us ancients for nambypamby creatures.
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