'Just keep the picture and think about it,' she repeated. 'Baby got no father,' Rose Rose said. Wally's trip through Burma was a voyage Wilbur Larch had often undertaken. 'Or if they're married, they hate each other.
Some nights—especially in winter, wh«!n the bare trees permitted more of a view of the lit dining r 'Especially everything you do on your back. Rose and the other migrants would materialize. They were small and stooped, and behind them, on a cot—as still as a painting—a woman lay resting under a sheet, her eyes open but unfocused.
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