She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. The car ride to the new movie theater, a multiplex, was brief and harrowing. She could not help herself. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. "I've a good deal to do. Well-born, welleducated; those are the lads that pay in full. He blurted, “I was just telling Lucy that I have finished an important work. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers.
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