“My Mom never gets a good night’s sleep. But if God is kind to me, someday I may climb up to where you are. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. He paced faster, stomping around. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. I dare say anything seemed better to her than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use. “Thank you. “Please come by. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre.
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