Leslie had seen all these places a million times. She had even gone to school with a girl whose father was a congressman.
He thought he might tell Miss Edmunds later that Leslie was a personal friend of a real congressman. Miss Edmunds had always liked Leslie.
Entering the gallery was like stepping inside the pine grove— the huge vaulted marble,
the cool splash of the fountain, and the green growing all around.
Two little children had pulled away from their mothers and were running about, screaming to each other.
It was all Jess could do not to grab them and tell them how to behave in so obviously a sacred place.
And then the pictures—room after room, floor after floor. He was drunk with color and form and hugeness—
and with the voice and perfume of Miss Edmunds always beside him. She would bend her head down close to his face to give some explanation
or ask him a question, her black hair falling across her shoulders. Men would stare at her instead of the pictures,
and Jess felt they must be jealous of him for being with her. They ate a late lunch in the cafeteria.
When she mentioned lunch, he realized with horror that he would need money,
and he didn't know how to tell her that he hadn't brought any— didn't have any to bring, for that matter.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색