From above the mantel Lucille Grey in her white gown and pearl choker cast her melancholy, lovely eyes upon the luncheon table. Conversation, courteous as always, was desultory in spite of Oliver’s brisk efforts to create a warm “family” atmosphere. Every one of us here, Sally was thinking, would rather be someplace else on a summer afternoon, reading the paper, taking a swim, or having a nap in the hammock. Certainly Tina had been convinced to come only by Uncle Oliver’s announcement that he had a Japanese doll to give her. Now, sullen and silent, she sat between her parents eating cake while clutching the yellow silk doll in the other hand. It was, however, hardly nice of them all to feel put-upon. To Oliver it was important to keep the ritual of midday dinner on Sunday, a ritual that like so many others in the last half of this century most people had long abandoned. But it made him so happy to see them all gathered at his table. It didn’t take much to please him, after all.
