“I’m glad I’m not there to see them.”
“Joe, tell me, why did you leave England?”
“Well, I—I wanted a change. No I’ll tell you the truth, kid. I wanted you, Julie. You went off and married that—whatever that stage-door johnny’s name was—and it broke me all up.”
Aunt Julia was staring at him. She is what they call a well-preserved woman. It’s easy to see that, twenty-five years ago, she must have been something quite extraordinary to look at. Even now she’s almost beautiful. She has very large brown eyes, a mass of soft grey hair, and the complexion of a girl of seventeen.
“Joe, you aren’t going to tell me you were fond of me yourself!”
“Of course I was fond of you. Why did I let you have all the fat