PARTISAN REVIEW
She smiled again. "Well, we can't be too careful," she said.
"Now, let's try on the other one."
I did.
The sun came in the window through the soft white curtains
and shone on the old rose-colored carpet. From somewhere in the
house a canary sang.
"Do you know what happened to my boarder?" she said, care–
fully snipping with a little pair of scissors.
"No," I said watching the attractive swirl of skirt beginning
to take shape. Well-fitting clothes give one the sensation of walk–
ing skyward. Clothes should not shadow the self like a roof. They
should dwell beneath consciousness, fit into the skin. Already
with
the sharp cut of the skirt I felt a new sense of freedom and self–
respect. I looked fondly at Miss Hotch. "What happened to him?"
I asked.
"He was arrested," she said, "on suspicion."
"Oh, I said, then glibly, "Suspicion? Whose?"
"Mine," she whispered. "We can't be too careful."
"Did you-uh-have any proof?" I asked.
"Oh,
I
didn't need it. I could tell-"
'~By
the look in his eye?" I suggested.
"Certainly," she said, "if he's guilty it will be proven.
If
he
is innocent then they just haven't looked hard enough for proof of
his guilt. I
know."
•
She stood there eyes alight beneath the silver brow, full of
gleaming experience that dazzled with every gesture. My own
experience lay unharvested, barren. I could count on my fingers
the numbers of automobile accidents I had seen, the suicides, I had
even escaped the last War. All I had ever been was tired, hungry.
And what a drab thing that was.
I stepped out of the skirt dejected but Miss Hotch, seeming
to sense my mood, patted me on the shoulder comfortingly, "There
now; it's all done."
She folded the skirts neatly. "They will be ready by Monday."
"Oh thank you," I said.
The cat stuck its sooty head at the doorway and regarded us
quietly. A sudden and immense peace seemed to come over the
room. The sun had moved a little and the landscape of the wall–
paper was turning to a dark beautiful blood-red.
