AC dBooks

By a sort of mutual consent we never once spoke of the central subject
of our thoughts--my marriage and its fatal consequences--but I noticed
that Martin's voice was soft and caressing, that he was walking close to
my side, and that as often as I looked up at him he was looking down at
me and smiling.
It was the same after luncheon when we went out into the garden and sat
on a seat in the shrubbery almost immediately facing my windows, and he
spread a chart on a rustic table and pointing to a red line on it said:
"Look, this is the course of our new cruise, please God."
He talked for a long time, about his captain and crew; the scientific
experts who had volunteered to accompany him, his aeronautic outfit, his
sledges and his skis; but whatever he talked about--if it was only his
dogs and the food he had found for them--it was always in that soft,
caressing voice which made me feel as if (though he never said one word
of love) he were making love to me, and saying the sweetest things a man
could say to a woman.


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