From Chapter 11: In which we make a visit in the name of decency and good morals
The day spent at Ms. Cummings’ sitting room was, nonetheless, fruitful. During one of those breaks that naturally occur when you have been discussing metaphysical questions for over an hour, Brother Kirby started talking about his duties as a pastor. He was especially concerned, he said, about a Negro family that belonged to his congregation, whose members had gone astray.
“They live a few blocks north of here, on Broadway Street,” the man explained, with a lisp. “Their eldest daughter, Cora, is only sixteen, and already became an unwed mother last April.”
He pronounced these last words offering a glum look to his audience, as if he had just shared with them the most terrible secret. Mrs. Tortellini flinched a little. Mr. Roberts raised his eyebrows with disparagement. Ms. Cummings expression didn’t change.
The little woman pulled her chair closer, the better to listen.
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