Page 235 - tender-is-the-night

have more—is it because I’m supposed to be incompetent?
All right, let my share pile up then... . No, Dick refuses to
have anything whatever to do with it. I’ll have to feel bloated
for us both... . Baby, you have no more idea of what Dick is
like than, than—Now where do I sign? Oh, I’m sorry.
... Isn’t it funny and lonely being together, Dick. No place
to go except close. Shall we just love and love? Ah, but I love
the most, and I can tell when you’re away from me, even a
little. I think it’s wonderful to be just like everybody else, to
reach out and find you all warm beside me in the bed.
... If you will kindly call my husband at the hospital. Yes,
the little book is selling everywhere—they want it published
in six languages. I was to do the French translation but I’m
tired these days—I’m afraid of falling, I’m so heavy and
clumsy—like a broken roly-poly that can’t stand up straight.
The cold stethoscope against my heart and my strongest
feeling ‘Je m’en fiche de tout.’— Oh, that poor woman in the
hospital with the blue baby, much better dead. Isn’t it fine
there are three of us now?
... That seems unreasonable, Dick—we have every reason
for taking the bigger apartment. Why should we penalize
ourselves just because there’s more Warren money than
Diver money. Oh, thank you, cameriere, but we’ve changed
our minds. This English clergyman tells us that your wine
here in Orvieto is excellent. It doesn’t travel? That must be
why we have never heard of it, because we love wine.
The lakes are sunk in the brown clay and the slopes have
all the creases of a belly. The photographer gave us the pic-
ture of me, my hair limp over the rail on the boat to Capri.

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