[…] He explained in broken English that one of his daughters was ill and he probably could not be there. I did not understand all that he said, so asked, ‘Please?’ per Cincinnati custom. ‘There is no need to plead. I will be there if she is feeling better,’ he replied.

As he walked out of the court house, he showed two thumbs up and reached in his pocket to display his registration slip to some 30 other Negroes

How on earth Jacqueline brought herself to leave the poor little mite I'll never know, but she did, and it seems her and Maurice are settling in nicely over there—if you call upsetting the natives settling in, which sounds about right for our Jack.

“You mean our little beach girl? Oh, she's just a passing whim of Ross's. You know how he is. Always has to be different. She's most likely the result of a midlife crisis.”