The moment she entered the room and he rose, she felt that she was immediately consigned to the circle of strangers; and it emptied her heart of its joy and filled it with diffidence. . A few more minutes, and she was safe. In the grate were some charred fragments of a marriage certificate. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. They had their little dreams about her. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. ‘You are an avid reader, I take it. She has given herself up to social work.
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