You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. . 48 <6> THE FRIDAY NIGHT SHOW The air was chill and the sky overcast and misting. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. ’ ‘Not French?’ echoed Hilary. I’ve got no feminine class feeling. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself.
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