There was a difference though. Genny and Gloria had each other, maybe not at first, but increasingly so. Who did Mary Ford have? A family she barely spoke of, a patron who she had done everything in her power to keep out of this conversation and presumably her future plans as well, Maxwell? They were not friends. The letter had even begun with an allowance for if Gloria had barely remembered her. She had remembered though, and through effort and boldness from both women, they were here now.
With a swallow, a new swallow it seemed, to force down hesitation for each and every new idea. How many swallows could one woman manage? How sore must her throat be. "I don't think the Inquisitory is the right idea. Maybe it was once or would have been. It tries to be too much. It makes it too easy to suspect one another, suspect neighbors. It's happened before and it'll happen again, and I just don't think it's for me. Not now that I've been away." She had not explained her misgivings before and while Gloria hinted at possibilities now, she did not even press. Having scored other small victories, Mary felt confident enough to catch back up to this previous point of the conversation. "It's a good place for arguing but a bad place for disagreeing."
One last swallow, this one more self-aware than the last. "I think it can work, or else I wouldn't have written you, Gloria." She placed both hands upon her own face, fingers upon the bridge of her nose, palms together, so that when she spoke again, it was through flesh, sinew, and bone. For even such mumbles, proximity sufficed for understanding, thankfully. "I'm not sure exactly what it is, either, but I think it can work. You don't have to have all the answers now, Gloria. Just think about it, ok? And I'll keep thinking too." Here, at the end, where all they needed was an agreement to take steps forward, not to make it to the very end of the dark, uncertain road, she still hid behind her hands. Yet, so hidden, she continued her, maybe their, march forth.