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- Стр. 578/1581
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Do
you
understand
?
"
"
Oh
yes
,
Hank
,
I
understand
!
"
she
said
.
Do
you
,
my
darling
?
—
do
you
understand
it
fully
?
—
she
thought
,
but
did
not
say
it
aloud
.
On
the
evening
of
a
blizzard
,
she
came
home
to
find
an
enormous
spread
of
tropical
flowers
standing
in
her
living
room
against
the
dark
glass
of
windows
battered
by
snowflakes
.
They
were
stems
of
Hawaiian
Torch
Ginger
,
three
feet
tall
;
their
large
heads
were
cones
of
petals
that
had
the
sensual
texture
of
soft
leather
and
the
color
of
blood
.
"
I
saw
them
in
a
florist
’
s
window
,
"
he
told
her
when
he
came
,
that
night
.
"
I
liked
seeing
them
through
a
blizzard
.
But
there
’
s
nothing
as
wasted
as
an
object
in
a
public
window
.
"
She
began
to
find
flowers
in
her
apartment
at
unpredictable
times
,
flowers
sent
without
a
card
,
but
with
the
signature
of
the
sender
in
their
fantastic
shapes
,
in
the
violent
colors
,
in
the
extravagant
cost
.
He
brought
her
a
gold
necklace
made
of
small
hinged
squares
that
formed
a
spread
of
solid
gold
to
cover
her
neck
and
shoulders
,
like
the
collar
of
a
knight
’
s
armor
—
"
Wear
it
with
a
black
dress
,
"
he
ordered
.
He
brought
her
a
set
of
glasses
that
were
tall
,
slender
blocks
of
square
-
cut
crystal
,
made
by
a
famous
jeweler
.
She
watched
the
way
he
held
one
of
the
glasses
when
she
served
him
a
drink
—
as
if
the
touch
of
the
texture
under
his
fingers
,
the
taste
of
the
drink
and
the
sight
of
her
face
were
the
single
form
of
an
indivisible
moment
of
enjoyment
.
"
I
used
to
see
things
I
liked
,
"
he
said
,
"
but
I
never
bought
them
.
There
didn
’
t
seem
to
be
much
meaning
in
it
.
There
is
,
now
.
"
He
telephoned
her
at
the
office
,
one
winter
morning
,
and
said
,
not
in
the
tone
of
an
invitation
,
but
in
the
tone
of
an
executive
’
s
order
,
"
We
’
re
going
to
have
dinner
together
tonight
,
I
want
you
to
dress
.
Do
you
have
any
sort
of
blue
evening
gown
?
Wear
it
.
"
The
dress
she
wore
was
a
slender
tunic
of
dusty
blue
that
gave
her
a
look
of
unprotected
simplicity
,
the
look
of
a
statue
in
the
blue
shadows
of
a
garden
under
the
summer
sun
.
What
he
brought
and
put
over
her
shoulders
was
a
cape
of
blue
fox
that
swallowed
her
from
the
curve
of
her
chin
to
the
tips
of
her
sandals
.
"
Hank
,
that
’
s
preposterous
"
—
she
laughed
—
"
it
’
s
not
my
kind
of
thing
!
"
"
No
?
"
he
asked
,
drawing
her
to
a
mirror
.
The
huge
blanket
of
fur
made
her
look
like
a
child
bundled
for
a
snowstorm
;
the
luxurious
texture
transformed
the
innocence
of
the
awkward
bundle
into
the
elegance
of
a
perversely
intentional
contrast
:
into
a
look
of
stressed
sensuality
.
The
fur
was
a
soft
brown
,
dimmed
by
an
aura
of
blue
that
could
not
be
seen
,
only
felt
like
an
enveloping
mist
,
like
a
suggestion
of
color
grasped
not
by
one
’
s
eyes
but
by
one
’
s
hands
,
as
if
one
felt
,
without
contact
,
the
sensation
of
sinking
one
’
s
palms
into
the
fur
’
s
softness
.
The
cape
left
nothing
to
be
seen
of
her
,
except
the
brown
of
her
hair
,
the
blue
-
gray
of
her
eyes
,
the
shape
of
her
mouth
.
