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"Supper," I sniffed, as I spread the jam on those lovely, lovely slices of bread and thick butter that I had fixed for my own self. "I am so tired of that apple-toast combination now that I forget it if I can." As I handed him the first slice of drippy lusciousness, I turned my head away. He thought it was from the expression of that jam, but it was from his eyes.
It gave a faint but steady light, and showed the pink and green and white of the fruit, the dusky faces of the servants as they cut and sliced, and handed plates to the eager and waiting guests. Becky, standing back in the shadows with Randy by her side, watched the men surge towards the table, and retire with their loads of lusciousness.
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