Jean nodded. "I often used to wish that I could draw or paint when I first came to New York." And although she knew that she would have striven to get on canvas the battle in the souls of these aliens and that Philip would have painted the picturesque clothes of the balalaika player, and the tinsel cap of the dancer, she felt nearer to him than she ever had.
"I used to try it, but I could never get it. I'll show you the sketches if you like." Jean knew that Philip was proud of these things and glad to show them. "I should like to see them."
It was after eleven when Philip paid the check and they turned homeward. The air was broken now with little puffs of hot wind. Philip took off his hat, so that the puffs of air stirred his hair, and made him look like a contented baby in a draught. But the evening had been pleasant and Jean was ashamed of noticing how his fine hair, leaping suddenly erect, made him look foolish. As they turned into Grove Street, the first heavy drops splashed, and before they could reach the door, were coming in a steady patter.
Philip followed Jean into the dark living-room, now filled with a mysterious cooling breeze like a presence. In a rush the storm broke, lashing the ailanthus in the garden, beating out the breeze, and the air stung with the smell of rain and the little square of earth. Somewhere above, a window slammed. "Catherine," she whispered, and Philip felt that he and Jean were alone against the world, with all its silly notions, like shutting windows in a thunderstorm.
Jean moved toward the garden and Philip stood beside her. The rain beat like shot poured through the opening between the tenements. A little strip of earth held fast between bricks; thunder, crashing against tenements; a jumble of majesty and squalor.
"I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone
And the moon's with a girdle of pearl.
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim
When the whirlwinds my banners unfurl."
The lines slipped in between the crashes and Jean felt the clouds racing across mountain peaks.