Byby. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. She caught her finger in the lock and had to ask him to help pry it out. He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes.
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