“Why do you say that?” he asked, turning his head to look at her. “The touch of fairyland has gone away. That sounds so sad and final.”
She didn’t look at him. “Do you remember the fireflies at Arolo? The banks of the lake in the moonlight with hundreds of fireflies like silver sparks glowing in the grass?”
“There is something wrong,” he said. “Tell me, isn’t there something wrong?”
“Do you feel it too?”
“Then there is something. What is it?”
“I’ve told you.”
“Please don’t be mysterious. Tell me.”
She took a nervous sip from her glass and didn’t say anything. Mandell wondered why she looked so tragic. He thought this talk about fairyland was under the arm. He liked straight dealings himself and fancy language gave him a pain.
“Are you sorry you’ve come?” the big man asked. “Is that it? Would you rather we had gone to Europe instead?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. You see, the edges are frayed now. Please don’t make me say it. You must feel as I feel.”