“I was lonely. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten. It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. Too busy. He would have sent the Virgin Mary to heal the baby. ” She turned herself to one side and propped her head in her hand.
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