“I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. And all the talk of the Miniver people and the Widgett people seemed always to be like a ship in adverse weather on the lee shore of love. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. "No!" she cried. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. He lowered her neck before her, and she noticed a bizarre urge to bite him rising from her mind like an itch.
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