she picked up her brush, ran it through her hair , and the sun caught a glint of diamonds in her ears . then she shook her head in an impatient gesture , ran her fingers through her hair . she looked grave , and the exchange between her and the unseen person appeared to the intense .
just discernible in the corner of the window , the bed was coveredd with a blue and white vintage quilt . very pretty , very rose . rose sat down on it .
had nathan occupied that bed ? had he sneaked away from the office , with a bottle of champage ? had he drwn his first wife down onto the blue and white expanse and palced his lips on her bare shoulder as he had on mine ? had he propped himself up on his elbow and asked " can you forgive me , rose , for what i did to you ?" or had he murmured ." i can't live without you ?"
was he sitting there now , out of sight ?
i turned my head away , so roughly that my neck prorested . rose could have been beaten by the circumstances of her life but , plain as day , she was not . i don't know quite what i had envisaged - that rose should live out her life on some prison ship with hard labor ? i have to no idea why i thought that someone to whom i had done such wrong should suffer more . but i did .
i could taste my hatred and despair , as i could smell the musky odor of sweat springing under my arms in the heated car . i turned back to look through rose's sparkling window and i was peering into my mind's secret mirror with all its reflected darkness and turbulence .
a man bearing a bouquet of spring flowers - beautiful whites and yellows and pale greens - crossed the road and let himself into rose's from garden .
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