“So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. But I can give it its name now. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. ‘Tell me the truth, Melusine. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. She listened, listened intently for several minutes.
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