She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. There is Mr. Only last night she saw me, and there was horror in her eyes. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. ’ She eyed him. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. I——” Then he stopped short, for he began to remember things. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. Just an idea of mine. 1. In doing this, he chanced to raise his eyes and half fancied he beheld, shaded by a pillar at the extremity of the western aisle, the horrible countenance of the thief-taker. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her.
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