after the fire by the fire after

Author:the fire after [after, the fire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I

“Understandable,” he said softly. “Funny thing, HyaI

:

cinth.

I have a particular reason for wanting to see you.

IT-WO reasons, actually. I wanted to make another apol bar ogy

for the rather rough way I tried to get my point bar across that day. And the other reason was that while I

bar was in Europe, I went to a Dufy

exhibit and for the first

Itime I learned that he had done fashion drawing.

I was

bar amazed, though why I should have been, I don’t know.

@l

His sketches were little gems in themselves, watercolors and pen and ink, for some famous Paris couturier back before the First World War. I thought immediately of you, and the connection between fashion and art.”

was So you really know more about art than you pretended.”

“I don’t pretend. I really don’t know much.

I’m a learner.”

“So am I.”

All of a sudden, she became so intensely aware of his presence beside her that she had nothing to say. Now their approach to the museum gave her something.

“Would you like to go in?”

“Some other time. Today I only want to talk to you.

Tell me about yourself.”

“There’s very little to tell. I work hard, and I like it.

I’ve been lucky. You gave me good advice.”

“I wasn’t talking about work. I meant, about you.

Are you feeling alone now that it’s over? As bad as a marriage may have been, people tell me that they often feel alone in the world after a divorce.”

She said quickly, “I’m not alone. I have brothers, and my mother is only a few hours away. She’s busy, a busy volunteer, and I’m busy, but we get together.”

He was not asking about her relatives, she knew that.

In a roundabout way, he was asking whether she had a lover. And she knew, too, that if she were to say she had one he would, except for an occasional meeting at work, be gone.

She said only, “I have a few friends, but nobody really close. I haven’t had time.”

“Nobody really close? I’m glad.

No, that’s selfish of me. I didn’t mean it quite like that. Not quite.”

They walked on past a pond and through a mist, a bare hint, of arriving green. Nearing a bridle path, they stopped to let some riders go through. There were children among them, a little one riding a pony not much larger than a toy, and another, an older one, sitting proudly and earnestly on his high perch.

“Nice,” Will observed. “Shall we sit near the path and watch the horses for a while?”

They found a bench. For a minute or two, they were silent; she knew that his eyes were turned upon her with a smile in them. His face is passionate, she thought.

It says everything and hides nothing. And this awareness was suddenly so troubling, contrasted to the secret that she carried, that her heart sank, even as she was compelled to speak.

“I have two children,” she said, very low; her voice sounded in her ears as though it was the voice of a stranger.

“You do? But why-was He was astonished.

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