But I'll tell you about him some other time. “Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. ‘Oh, mon dieu. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. She had very few clear memories before a particular day in the library, when they had finished one of her first reading lessons. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. I will teach you how to make that little sufficient. She’s hated me for no apparent reason ever since Fourth Grade.
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