A day will come when you will thank me. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. ’ ‘But, Marthe, you do not imagine that I would have taken the veil like you, even if you have not told me. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars.
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