"It's nice to wake up like this."
"Alfredo used to climb mountains. You know Alfredo Villaseñor? What happened to Alfredo? He was a likable fellow. Your father wanted you to marry him."
"He went to Europe ... and I don't know what became of him."
"Did you like him?"
"Very much ... for a while."
He had a faded picture of Villaseñor, mountaineer, Spanish, freckle-faced, well dressed, demanding.
"I'm the sort who runs away to the mountains, takes his own woman, a sorry Catholic, Lucienne. I've been thinking of my lapses. I profess one thing and do another."
His seriousness woke her a little and she said, emphatically, "There's such a thing as tolerance—the scripture teaches that."
"Not license."
"Love sanctifies things."