Outside his window five-year-old Priscilla Hess, square and squat as a mailbox (red sweater, blue lumpy corduroy pants), looked around poignantly for someoo wipe her overflowing here was a butterfly locked ihat mailbox, surely; would it ever escape? Or was the quality of mailboxness stuck to her forever, like her parents, like her he sky was sunny and blue. A filet of green Silly Putty disappeared into fat Priscilla Hess auro greet his wife who was crawling through the door on her hands and knees.
"Yes?" he said. "What now?"
"Im ugly," she said, sitting ba her haunches. "Our children are ugly."
"Nonsense," Brian said sharply. "Theyre wonderful children. Wonderful aiful. Other peoples children are ugly, not our children. Now get up and go back out to the smokeroom. Youre supposed to be g a ham."
"The ham died," she said. "I couldnt cure it. I tried everything. You dont love me any more. The penicillin was stale. Im ugly and so are the children. It said t……（内容加载失败！）
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