“Fine. After the first courses however she scarcely noticed him. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it. They’re in grad school and they both live in New York. His lips were tight drawn. She wondered wildly why she had stood up.
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