“You gon’ look at this register?” “I can’t directly, but I know a man who has worked at the records office. He should be able to help.” “And you know,” Rachel said slowly, “that me gon’ want . . .” Mr. Armstrong smiled. It was not his shop-smile—smooth lips stretched over even teeth. It was a smile from the heart. “I know. You would want to leave. And you would take Mary Grace with you, I expect.” She nodded. “I will not stop you,” he said. “There are many people in this town in need of work. Elvira and I will manage.”
Is this him being a good person or him trying to get Rachel out of his hair
