“David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. Always! I don’t believe there is any strong natural affection at all between parents and growing-up children. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War.
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