“If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. But here was new music, tender and kindly and whimsical, that first roved to and fro in the mind and then cuddled up in the heart. She found him reclined, watching television in a small guest room hidden in a back wing of the massive house. Her attenuated arms were crossed upon her breast; and her black brows and eyelashes contrasted fearfully with the livid whiteness of her skin. Tender with the sick, firm with the strong, fearless, with a body that had the resistance of iron, there was nothing of the hypocrite in him.
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