She did not look at them.

I want that on the record above everything else in this account, because every other thing in it can be argued about by somebody and that one cannot.

Two babies, three hours old, her son’s children, in two bassinets, four feet from where she was standing, with their faces showing.

She came through the door, she said “well,” she looked at me, and she put the envelope down on the end of my bed.

In the whole of the next twenty-five minutes she looked at her granddaughters exactly once, and it was not to look at them.