. Not I. ” They were eating quails when they returned to the topic of love. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. Like the parrot, she could memorize the lines, but she could not understand them. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Even if she has to work two jobs to do it. " "What is it?" asked the poor woman. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence.
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