He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. It is you who took my name, not I yours. ‘I can take care of myself, bête. I'm about to ring for supper. “I’m not sure whether we don’t rather overdo all this higher education,” he said, with an effect of conveying profound meanings. She was acquiring truths, but in a series of shocks rather than by the process of analysis. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. “Is that okay with you? To go down to the station with him?” “I’ll go with him, Larry.
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