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Chapters (51)
  1. Introduction by Michael Bronski
  2. BEGINNING
  3. II
  4. III
  5. IV
  6. V
  7. VI
  8. VII
  9. VIII
  10. IX
  11. X
  12. XI
  13. XII
  14. XIII
  15. MIDDLE
  16. II
  17. III
  18. IV
  19. V
  20. VI
  21. VII
  22. VIII
  23. IX
  24. X
  25. XI
  26. XII
  27. XIII
  28. XIV
  29. XV
  30. XVI
  31. XVII
  32. XVIII
  33. XIX
  34. XX
  35. END
  36. II
  37. III
  38. IV
  39. V
  40. VI
  41. VII
  42. VIII
  43. IX
  44. X
  45. XI
  46. XII
  47. XIII
  48. XIV
  49. XV
  50. XVI
  51. About the Author

Why had she picked a time like this for a showdown, a time when he could have been her lover for two weeks? But he himself had known the answer to the question even as he asked it: because he expected to be that lover—expected that it was expected of him. He knew; which was why, reckless, he had dared her with mockery, saying such an outrageous and true thing as “I suppose it’s a moral question.” In preference to a holiday of love or at least of love-­making (long delayed, intended merely as a stopgap for another month or few months), she had pulled ruin down upon them both. Neither of them, now, could ever undo last night. Well, out of that ruin they would build, or part; there could be no half measures from now on, no evasions, pretenses, or falling back on cowardly custom. If he wanted her, she was his to take, but not as he had half-heartedly tried to do last night. Let him pull himself out of his apathy first, emerge from the strange murk in which she had lost sight of the man she loved; let him declare himself and show his love as if they were just beginning. Once she was assured that she still counted as his wife, she would be only too willing to meet him halfway and try again. But she had to know—from inside herself and from him, not from his just saying it—that he wanted her. And in that there could be no make-­believe.

Of course the problem had not been solved at all, or even faced; it had been stated merely. But since the first step toward the solution of any problem is to state it, perhaps there was hope. Or was there something else back of it; did a problem exist beyond the issue, always personal for her, of their marriage? She did not know; she only knew now where she stood in the matter, and had so expressed herself. How it was with her husband—that would be for him to say.

It was time to go to the beach. She preferred to go alone; she wanted to lie in the sun and not think about it any more: not think of anything. She got up from the beach and crossed the square to the drugstore to get some sun-­tan oil and cards for Alan and Ted, dodging bicycles as she went.

IV

IV