“I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered. At noon the doctor himself arrived. Some doting parent had taught him well. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. After all, they’re history in the making. Here are your indentures, if you choose to seek another master. The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage.
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