’ ‘But Marthe, this is idiot. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. It was you! It was exactly you, but it was probably the photo they thought it was your mother! I dug it up after combing the Reader’s Guide To Periodical Literature for like, six hours straight. It is now a point of view, differing widely, as the ignorant man differs from the educated. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. “I suppose you know I like you tremendously?” he pursued. Yet she never once thought of changing it. In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings.
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