Mother Green spoke more and more of ****, in fact as if here were a real person, a person sort of like Shallow Brown, who was visiting them but wouldn’t be permanent. A kind of transitory somebody. Yes, like Shallow Brown had been. Sometimes Viola wondered if she and Mother Green had only dreamed there had been a Shallow Brown. And Viola often thought that Mother Green might be having the same thought. They were both waiting for something. And Brown had intercepted the wait. But now he was gone, As ****, said: they would have no occupation, but to wait together.