May we do it again? She sounds remarkably bright and cheerful. 'And I didn't bleed. My mother said I would experience great agony.'
'Half an hour.'
'I beg your pardon? Your mumbling.'
Eyes closed, I attempt to enunciate a little more clearly. 'In half an hour or so. Probably. And your mother was misinformed.'
'What am I suppose to do in the meantime?'
'Oh. Read a Sermon. Embroider something
