With thinly veiled glee, Michelle described a rumor she had heard about John at a recent party. Manning’s handwriting had an air of being clear without being easily legible; it was large and rather roundish, with a lack of definition about the letters and a disposition to treat the large ones as liberal-minded people nowadays treat opinions, as all amounting to the same thing really—a yearssmoothed boyish rather than an adult hand. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. Perhaps that is why I lost my ambition.
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