... past the point where I paid it any mind. So I sat and waitedwhile she finished.Finally, she pulled out the page, gathered it togetherwith one or two others and, still not looking up, passedthem ... did—no knitted brows, just the blank screen of her face, the outside world absent. For a moment, the room lay still. Until, abruptly: “Oh, yes,ForewordFor my father,who would have been so ... It was a short essay for the Johns Hopkins Maga-zine, which she edited, but this was one of the little piecesshe wrote herself.What, she wanted to know, did I think of it?Oh, it was fine, I...