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I have strength enough to drag myself there, and I do not want to return. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. Upon which Mrs. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her.
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