I was talking to an old woman, in the nave of a church, about a stained glass window I’d stopped to look up at after I’d come in a few minutes earlier, so that she’d noticed me as she’d begun to make her way down the aisle, from where she’d been kneeling, in a pew toward the front, and had, on reaching the place where I’d been standing, made a remark, or asked me a question, about the object of my gaze...yes, I was talking to her about this stained glass window, the meaning of which she understood better than I did, when another old woman, with whom she seemed to be friends, though I hadn’t realized anyone else was present, approached us from the side, and joined our conversation, which was quiet and unexciting, and not like conversations I’m used to having, though it was by no means unpleasant, and in fact went a long way to cheer me.