Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. . He had deliberately saved it for last. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. The angels in Heaven shall not tear you from me. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say.
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