You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. After a while he spoke again. “On the stage? Yes. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. She had never thought of him at all in that way before. ‘C’est ridicule. Now go. ‘Leave it, imbecile. For Ruth grew lovelier as the days went on. 1 through 1.
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