Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. Even that he was an interfering person, if he walked through that door this moment, she would fling herself at him and weep all over his chest. She seemed to be making some sort of inventory. Despite her busy work schedule, Sheila had always been a social person, a talker, a joiner of neighborhood groups, a town council member, a PTA worker, and a thrower of neighborhood coffee klatches. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly.
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