He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. "Fire! That was what drew me to you in the beginning. ” “I am Mrs. . ” “Where do you go?” “Oh!—Alps. Dizziness overcame him like anesthetic and he slept. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. Life seemed a very brave and glorious enterprise to Ann Veronica that day.
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