She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. I guess those books are okay because they are fiction. I need a white man, if only to talk to; and it will be a god send to talk to someone of your intelligence. He wants you—or he doesn’t; and then he helps some other woman against you. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. . If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. John was ecstatic to hear that she had made the coveted first chair position in Orchestra.
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