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... alluses on David Locke’s fingers. She fought back the surge of bitterness in her chest, forcing herself to say, "I’m fine."
"Fine? Then why are you crying? Are you trying to make it look like we, two old folks, are bullying you?" Mrs. Twain grumbled unhappily.
Mr. Locke looked at his wife and pleaded, "Say one less thing, will you? Look, you’ve upset our son."
"Hmph." Mrs. Locke snorted in disapproval, casually pulling out a few tissues and handing them to Mary. "Here." < ...
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