Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. ‘When you’re my age, you’ll be just as hardheaded. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. There were three exit doors. "I am only fit for such as him. But it was not adieu, so she promised her old nurse.
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