"Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. “Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. The burden of decision had been transferred. She knew it was to be a long night, and her stomach turned with the knowledge that Cathy and Larry Beck would be waiting to pick her up after the questioning, which meant they would be up all night despite the fact they both had jobs to go to in the morning. After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls. He first met her when he had caught her smoking behind the Joliet LaudrO-Matic one cool overcast day in late August. They were just nice.
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