It’s getting late.”

“Yes!” She wrapped her small hand tight around mine.

Then she noticed, for the first time, the grown man sitting across the table with his face in his hands, and she paused, and looked at him, and a small confused frown crossed her face — the mild, passing puzzlement of a child encountering an adult behaving strangely, quickly filed away as one more inexplicable thing grown-ups sometimes do.

She did not ask about him.