John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark. "Is your father alive?" "No," returned Thames; "he was assassinated while I was an infant. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly. 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. Her aunt went off at a tangent. I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. Shari managed it after graduating beauty school.
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