My own impression is that he already knows. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. Her aunt was a long time before she answered. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. 156 He followed, “Um, is it okay if we talk in private for a few minutes somewhere?” Cathy was quick to reply.
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