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. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. “I have not the least idea who he is. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. And in the vestry was the sword of monsieur le major. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom.
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