It seems to me exactly what is wanted. To—to find myself. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. She was not quite clear how she should find it, but she felt she would. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Ever and again Capes appealed to Ann Veronica.
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