I've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet. He patted the hand on his sleeve. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. “What can you do?” she asked. He was a philosopher. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. I don't care how lonesome it is. I hoped for a family like the Becks and I waded through the system until I got them, so maybe life isn’t so damn hopeless after all.
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