She sits very still as you pass your hand gently over her hair. Her shining eyes are fixed on something invisible that hovers in the room just over your head. Mystery, or the answer to all mystery? A new confidence, a new belief, are coming into her life. It is like being kissed in a dream; wondering a little, but detached; peaceful in an even exaltation.
The room grows darker and the swish of the motors make a faint pulsing music from the boulevard. There comes an evening coolness. She is thinking; her cheeks are flushed. The bright colors of the books on the shelf are smothered in darkness, but you can see that her cheeks are flushed. She has forgotten where she is, who she is, everything. Very softly, taking elaborate care to avoid the tea-table, go over to the door and lock it.
15. A MAN MY AGE
TYPE:
Married, more than forty-five, discontented and not very attractive at first glance.
SUBJECT:
Warm-hearted but somewhat slow and heavy in her thought-processes. Has many women friends. Various men sometimes wonder why they didn’t marry her when it was possible. A good sport, but very respectable.
APPARATUS:
1 Chesterfield divan, very comfortable but dusty