Every other person in that story had been playing by Kevin’s mother’s rules without noticing.

The doctor had relayed the accusation.

Kevin had gone to investigate the accusation.

I had demanded to see the evidence for the accusation.

All three of us, in our different ways, had conceded the central and lunatic proposition — that there was a question here about which reasonable people might differ, and which could be settled by examining a chin.

And a sixty-eight-year-old woman with half her hair pinned up walked into the room and refused to enter the argument at all.

They look like potatoes.