"Sometimes, sir, it doesn't quite matter at all." Credence is surprisingly tight-lipped all of the sudden, but he's here; they're here, and it's another one of those careful dances. He's not sure he wants to talk about Mary Lou anymore, he's decided, and while he still can't say no--he never can--he can at least change the question.

Mary Lou was a bad person. She had hurt him, hurt his sisters, molded one of them in her image and was on her way to doing the same with the other. But Credence still holds on to the good: he was fed for the most part, clothed for the most part, and was able to stay dry.

"That was rude," he says, and shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I--I worry about what she left. Who I left, too. Modesty."