My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. ” She changed the subject abruptly. She even hit the jackpot in 1952 when she found a photograph in a London issue of Vogue. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether.
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