“Where is the harm child, in your sitting up at a piano, even behind a curtain; in a large room in Gower Street, I can’t imagine why you say GOWER Street; playing, with the soft pedal either down or up, the kind of music that you play so beautifully? Can you see her difficulty Jan?”
“Not even with the most powerful of microscopes.”
Lolling on the windowsill of their lives to glance at a passing show.... The blessed damosel looked out. Leaning, heavy on the golden balcony. She knew why not. Heavy blossoming weight, weighed down with her heavy hair, the sky blossoming in it, facing, just able to face without sinking, the rose-gold world, blossoming under her eyes.
Thin hard fingers of women chattering and tweaking.... They go up sideways, witches on broomsticks, and chatter angrily in the distance. They cannot stop the sound of the silent crimson blossoming roses.
“I don’t approve of séances.”
“No; but I know I don’t. It was something about the woman when she asked me.”
“That is a personal prejudice.”
“It is not a prejudice; how can it be pre after I have seen her?”
“Séances are wrong; because you have taken a dislike to Madame Devine.”