Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering. She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood. She knew that I cared for her, she had admitted that she cared for me. Perhaps that was the reason why she enjoyed preparing suppers at the Becks. He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. I told him the truth. Mr. She looked at the suitcase sadly and stashed it underneath her bed. But I don’t suppose you can understand.
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