“I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. She turned a resolute face southward. “Love should be enough, John, but it never is. ‘Well?’ she said. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. The kiss was powerfully moving. “I shall leave the flat to you and go to a hotel.
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