XXII expect I’m not so resilient as I once was. I wasn’t even sure I was hearing as clearly as I once was able to. She was stooping down and taking some handsome cabinet-size portrait folders out of her suitcase.
“I know you’re surprised,” she said. “But . . . well, Daddy says we all make mistakes. He says the thing to do isn’t to brood over them. He says you try to mend them, and if you can’t, you just have to forget. I know I . . . I’ve been a nuisance. And I don’t have much I can give you . . . but if you’d like to have. . . .”
“Oh, Ginny, I’d love to have one,” I said. I was really almost in tears.
“Would you really?” The first frail gleam of a smile I’d seen in her eyes since I turned on the radio was there. She gave me a really grateful and shy sideways glance, and put three pictu
