Nevertheless she withdrew her hand. “I can’t. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Too many. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. May I know your name?’ The lady eyed him. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. Michelle would arrive daily with a two to ten minute brief on her own dating status, her nightly dreams, grades, new family developments. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said.
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