White became conscious of a distinct sense of uneasiness, and showed it in her face. “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. And Anna was conscious of a few moments of exquisite emotion. Wood; "I can't for an instant question such distinterested testimony. Wanted a clean sweep for elbowroom.
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