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Show 202 And sitting down she looked into the older woman's face with frank but polite interest. "How are your guests?" "Guest. My brother, General Greaves." "Lovely. I'm sure you're pleased. We do miss our families, don't we?" "Do we? That depends on the family." Harriet chuckled. "I've thought of that too, but never had the nerve to say it." She reached over, as if to pat her hand, but laid her own back in her lap. "Entertaining must keep you busy." "Not really. He's found friends to take him out." "We were hoping we'd meet -" Before she finished her sentence, attention was drawn to the end of the lane. Japanese children, outriders of the General's party, irrupted, scurrying forward like foam before a wave, and in a moment the central party appeared. As the General approached, Harriet rose and stood quietly, on one side Phyllis -- red-faced, sharp-featured and sweating- on the other plain, dark Evelyn, clearly nervous. Harriet was calm and poised, demure. Her dress was grey, simple, chic, with a dainty touch of white at the neck. Phyllis -- her attention divided between the approaching group and her own - had an irrational thought: Harriet resembled a nun or a pilgrim. A small demure Pilgrim, on the way to catch the Mayflower. Harriet, however, was studying the General. Odd, she thought to herself, how much he resembled his sister, and yet how different. He was - or had been - handsome; Mrs Satterwhite |