’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. And besides—We’re going to live, Ann Veronica! Oh, the things we’ll do, the life we’ll lead! There’ll be trouble in it at times—you and I aren’t going to run without friction. “Me and my bright ideas. All right, I’m coming. I presume that you have been living alone?” She sighed gently. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. It wasn’t long ago that a girl went straight from the farm to her husband, just as soon as her period came and she could make babies.
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