“Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. Their doors stood open, and placards with big letters indicated the section assigned to each. From other obscure hints dropped by the speakers, Mrs. You will do as I say, or—’ ‘Hoy!’ called Trodger from down the hall. ’ ‘What heir?’ ‘Exactly. Not entirely.
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