It was empty. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. . I didn’t go out of my way or anything. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. It was Celeste’s idea. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy.
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