Authors: Louis Auchincloss
Her brother came to see her every evening at six, in the bedroom to which she was now largely confined. He was an angel of sympathy.
"You've done more than any of us," he kept assuring her. "You've assuaged an iota of the world's misery."
"And you've assuaged much of mine. Can one iota be greater than another?"
"Anyway, I can promise that I'll take good care of all your family records."
She didn't tell him that she thought he'd do as well to burn them. She knew how much he wanted to feel that he had done something for her. Maybe it would be an iota for both of them.