If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. She thought she had hidden well from him. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. I hung around Harvard a little when you were there. To be jeune demoiselle, it is not always convenient. Capes saw her, felt for her, cared for her greatly, even if he did not love her. He walked unsteadily towards the door.
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