” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. ” He nodded twice, with his eyes on the fire, as though that was a formal statement. One has to train one’s self not to. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. I am going up to dine with my sister.
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