That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. He smothered a laugh. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. ” “I’m curious. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one.
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