Sharon wrote for him in a strangely labored and childish hand on small sheets of blue stationery. She seemed happiest when she was alone; she would sit for hours crocheting or embroidering tablecloths and napkins, with a tiny puckered smile on her lips. Her Aunt Emma Darley began to visit her more and more frequently; When John came home from university in the afternoon, he would often find the two together, drinking tea and talking at a volume so low it seemed like a whisper. They always greeted him politely, but John knew they looked upon him with regret; Mrs. Darley seldom stayed more than a few minutes after his arrival. He learned to view the world in which Sharon had begun to live in an unobtrusive and sensitive manner.
In the summer of 1920 he stayed with his parents for a week whi
