I completed it according to the directions, you see, and it was a beautiful machine, a triangle sort of, with a steering column I built out of an old wheelbarrow and a hubcap. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. They walked side by side for a time. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above.
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