Not dramatically.

She put one arm around each and brought them in, the way you do at a kerb when a car goes past too fast, and she did not stand up.

I came about six feet closer and stopped, and I said, “Evelyn.”

And she said, “No.”

That is the first word she said to me in six years and I want it in this account because everybody wants it to be something else.

She did not say Marcus. She did not say oh my God. She said no, once, quietly, in the voice of a woman declining something.