A small cold foot found its way into his instep. Upstairs the woman—he wondered, drunk or demented?—wailed no more. Occasionally a car went by outside, crunching his ice and Mrs. Krol’s garbage and sending brief flaring shadow-pictures flitting across the wall. Her hand came up and dropped light and warm upon his thigh. She was sleeping, and he discovered that she snored but decided the soft, rhythmic sibilation was both musical and appealing, the moan of doves in immemorial elms, and murmuring of innumerable bees. It was a sound he already liked very much.

In the morning they awoke early and despite considerable musculoskeletal pain made delighted love under the layer of thick blankets in the still, chill room and then because there was as yet no food in the kitchen cupboards they dressed and walked down the hill, which had been covered in the night by soft white snow, and had a big breakfast in a cafeteria on Charles Street.

She walked with him to the elevated station, and kissed him goodbye for the next thirty-six hours and they could see on each other’s faces how pleased they both were with the whole thing; but neither one tried to put it into words, perhaps out of superstition.

She went to the A&P and shopped, trying to be very frugal and sensible because he had a complex about their living on his check from the hospital, which she knew would not go far if she spent money with her customary disregard.

But when she saw the ripe avocados she couldn’t resist and she bought two. Despite her shopping care and the fact that they were only two people, she was buying staples to fill a bare cupboard; she ended up with five full bags. She considered going home to fetch the car and then decided to ask the store manager if she could borrow a shopping cart. There was a store rule against it but he was overwhelmed that she had bothered to ask. He even helped her to load the bundles. It appeared a good solution until she started to push the thing up the hill. There was not enough traction for the steel wheels in the snow. They slipped and skidded and so did she.

A colored girl with a frosted streak in her hair came out of nowhere to her rescue. “You push on one side and I’ll push on the other,” she said.

“Thank you,” Gaby gasped. Between the two of them they managed to reach Phillips Street.

“You saved my life! Won’t you come in for a cup of tea?”

“All right,” the girl said.

They carried in the groceries and took off their coats and dropped them on the couch. The girl wore faded blue jeans and an old sweatshirt. She had high cheekbones and lovely velvet-brown skin. She looked about seventeen. “What’s your name?” she asked.