A Madame Valade and her husband. She wondered occasionally why his mind needed so much distraction. I have never seen a lagoon. We will go to the passage and then I shall bind you. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Only I’m so incensed with that crazy fool Gerald that—oh, well, never mind.
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