“How was your nap, Aunt?” Jane asked. “What’s that?” Aunt Harriet slowly lowered herself into a wing chair. “My cap?” She touched a blue-veined hand to the delicately beribboned bit of lace tied over her thinning locks. “Your rest!” Jane said a little more loudly. “Yes. Quite right. It is the best of all my caps.”
This is my favorite line I’ve ever read
