Found her feet, after his quiet resolute own, pattering out to a seclusive alcove.
She saw him.—I don’t size you up. I don’t care! You release my feet and my laughter. You are big strong ... black ... what are you?
He came to her home.
Her ears did not count, yet her ears did for they had given her a label to stick on him so he could pass through her door.... Leon Dannenberg—attorney from Washington—Government lawyer—on short business here. He passed through. More than her eyes saw that he was very strong with hands full of ease. She leaned back in her rocker: her toes jutted forward: they twinkled against his black strength.
They chatted, she had no ears, she had voice. She was gay.
When he left her: “You are unhappy, Mrs. Luve,” he said. “I think you are the unhappiest woman I have known. You must be strong, then ... too.”
She took his hand and liked how her hand was lost in his hand that was full of ease.
“You let me be gay.”
“I’m coming whenever this Case ... and these Conferences ... let me.”