" That frenzied
moment of finding the lock! The run up two flights. She sat forward on
the slippery leather seat.
"I--I shouldn't have come."
"If you're serious, of course I'll take you home. But I can't tell you
how much I want you not to feel that way."
She sat back again.
"I'm behaving like a shop girl."
They both laughed again and complete thaw set in.
He selected one of the lesser dining rooms where the formality of
evening clothes was still the rule, but here and there a couple like
themselves, in street attire. It was her first New York meal that was
not read off a badly thumbed menu and eaten off thick-lipped china. A
stringed orchestra played the Duo of Parsifal and Kundry, which was
enough to set the blood rocking in her veins and some of its bombastic
maternal passion to dye her face.
He ordered a man's dinner: Clear soup with croutons. Long oysters on the
half shell. A thick steak with potatoes deliciously concocted beneath a
crust of cheese. Light wine. Ices in long glasses as slender as the neck
of a crane. Turkish coffee brewed at the table over alcohol.
She sighed out finally, warm with well-being: "I didn't realize how
deadly tired I was of just--grub.
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