between us. Then the doorbell rang. Lydia got up. A fat woman stood there with frantic, pleading eyes.
“This is my sister, Glendoline.”
“Hi.”
Glendoline pulled up a chair and started talking. She could talk. If she was a sphinx she could have talked, if she was a stone she could have talked. I wondered when she’d get tired and leave. Even after I stopped listening it was like being battered with tiny pingpong balls. Glendoline had no concept of time or any idea that she might be intruding. She talked on and on.
“Listen,” I said finally, “when are you going to leave?”