She removed it. Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call out "Mother!" "Who's there?" asked a faint voice from the bed. Immediately behind this individual, came a pale, poverty-stricken woman, whose forlorn aspect contrasted strongly with his plump and comfortable physiognomy. “I have a message from your sister. "I understand," she said. He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter.
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