He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. You do not need me to remind you of your success at Paris. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it. I want to be myself. Anna was married. Hartford, Connecticut; she had registered that address; but there was something so mystifyingly Oriental about her that the address only thickened the haze behind which she moved.
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