Voyage Into Violence
“and began to trot up again. An assistant director held his right hand beyond his right ear, the index finger pointed stiffly upward. Amanda Towne looked at the tiny watch on her wrist with an expression of aggrieved surprise and shook her head at it, a lady betrayed by time. She turned—but not too far, with chin up—to the Grandmother of the Year, who sat beside her on the sofa, and shared with her, for two seconds by the count, the realization that the best of things must end.
The assistant dir...ector brought his finger down, as if it were a pistol and he a duelist. Amanda Towne turned to face front again, the camera shifted slightly, eliminating the Grandmother of the Year from further consideration.
“Isn’t she just lovely?” Amanda Towne enquired, with a lilt—and just a touch of Arkansas—in her voice. “I know all of you out there wish she could just go on and on—and on. But—” She did not finish that; she moved graceful hands a little in resignation. She leaned forward slightly; her eyes were bright and her even teeth were brighter still on television screens from coast to coast.MoreLess
The assistant dir...ector brought his finger down, as if it were a pistol and he a duelist. Amanda Towne turned to face front again, the camera shifted slightly, eliminating the Grandmother of the Year from further consideration.
“Isn’t she just lovely?” Amanda Towne enquired, with a lilt—and just a touch of Arkansas—in her voice. “I know all of you out there wish she could just go on and on—and on. But—” She did not finish that; she moved graceful hands a little in resignation. She leaned forward slightly; her eyes were bright and her even teeth were brighter still on television screens from coast to coast.MoreLess
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