What is the tone in this excerpt from Daly's "Sixteen"? And that was last Thursday. Tonight is Tuesday. Tonight is Tuesday and my homework is done and I darned some stocking that really didn't need it, and I worked a cross-word puzzle and I listened to the radio and now I'm just sitting. I'm just sitting because I can't think of anything else to do. I can't think of anything, anything but snowflakes and ice skates and a yellow moon and Thursday night. The telephone is sitting on the corner table with its old black face turned to the wall. I don't even jump when it rings any more. My heart still prays but my mind just laughs. Outside the night is still—so still I think I'll go crazy. And so I'm sitting here and I'm not feeling anything. I'm not even sad because all of a sudden I know. I can sit here now and forever and laugh and laugh while the tears run salty in the corners of my mouth. For all of a sudden, I know, I know what the stars knew all the time—he will never, never call—never.