Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. My profession has hardened me. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. ” “Eh?” “I’ve forgotten something. ” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal.
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