"Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. 1. Tell me that you are not sorry to see me again. She delighted in frustrating him. He was human.
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