She had taken
off her hat and coat and was holding the heavy masses of hair away from her
head.
"Do you mind? I feel as if I had a twenty-pound weight...."
"What a question! Do what you want."
Gora took out the pins and let down her hair. It was not as fine as
Alexina's, but it was brown and warm and an unusual head of hair for these
days. It fell down both sides of her face, and her long cold unrevealing
eyes looked paler than ever between her sun-burned cheeks and her low heavy
brows.
Alexina knew that she had an antagonist far worthier of any weapons she
might find in her armory than poor Morty, but she believed she could trap
her if she were guilty....And she must be...she must....
"Didn't you find it too hot in the tropics for writing?"
"I only copied and revised. The book was finished before I left Lake
Tahoe-an ideal place for work. Some day I shall have a log cabin up there.
May I smoke?"
"Of course."
"It is almost a shame to desecrate a flower....I used to come in here
sometimes and look round...the week I spent here....The room is a
poem...like you....Or rather the binding of the prose poem that is
Alexina."
"I'd love it if you made me the heroine of one of your novels."
"You'll have much more fun living it yourself."
"Fine chance. I don't suppose I'll ever get out of California again....I am
afraid that Morty is doing quite badly.
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