beach. Her hair was brown. Her arms were thin and tanned. Her teeth were sound. But while he appeared to be deeply concerned with her opinions on love, the white image of Clarissa loomed up in his mind, and he broke off the conversation and left the party. He drove to the Ryans’.
From a distance, the cottage looked shut. The house and the garden were perfectly still. He knocked and then rang. Clarissa spoke to him from an upstairs window.
“Oh, hello, Baxter,” she said.
“I’ve come to say goodbye, Clarissa,” Baxter said. He couldn’t think of anything better.
“Oh, dear,” Clarissa said. “Well, wait just a minute. I’ll be down.”
“I’m going away, Clarissa,” Baxter said when she opened the door. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”
“Where are you going?
“I don’t know.” He said this sadly.
“Well, come in, then,” she said hesitantly. “Come in for a minute. This is the last time that I’ll see you, I guess, isn’t it? Please excuse the way the place looks. Mr. Talbot got sick on Monday and Mrs. Talbot had to take him to the hospital on the mainland, and I haven’t had anybody to help me. I’ve been all alone.”
He followed her into the living room and sat down. She was more beautiful than ever. She talked about the problems that had been presented by Mrs. Talbot’s departure. The fire in the stove that heated the water had died. There was a mouse in the kitchen. The bathtub wouldn’t drain. She hadn’t been able to get the car started.
In the quiet house, Baxter heard the sound of a leaky water tap and a clock pendulum. The sheet of glass that protected the Ryans’ geological specimens reflected the fading sky outside the window. The cottage was near the water, and he could hear the surf. He noted these details dispassionately and for what they were worth. When Clarissa finished her remarks about Mrs. Talbot, he waited a full minute before he spoke.
“The sun is in your hair,” he said.
“What?”
“The sun is in your hair. It’s a beautiful color.”
“Well, it isn’t as pretty as it used to be,” she said. “Hair like mine gets dark. But I’m not going to dye it. I don’t think that women should dye their hair.”
“You’re so intelligent,” he murmured.
“You don’t mean that?”
“Mean what?”
“Mean that I’m intelligent.”
“Oh, but I do,” he said. “You’re intelligent. You’re beautiful. I’ll never forget that night I met you at the boat. I hadn’t wanted to come to the island. I’d made plans to go out West.”
“I can’t be intelligent,” Clarissa said miserably. “I must be stupid. Mother Ryan says that I’m stupid, and Bob says that I’m stupid, and even Mrs. Talbot says that I’m stupid, and?” She began to cry. She went to a mirror and dried her eyes. Baxter followed. He put his arms around her. “Don’t put your arms around me,” she said, more in despair than in anger. “Nobody ever takes me seriously until they get their arms around me.” She sat down again and Baxter sat near her. “But you’re not stupid, Clarissa,” he said. “You have a wonderful intelligence, a wonderful mind. I’ve often thought so. I’ve often felt that you must have a lot of very interesting opinions.”
“Well, that’s funny,” she said, “because I do have a lot of opinions. Of course, I never dare say them to anyone, and Bob and Mother Ryan don’t ever let me speak. They always interrupt me, as if they were ashamed of me. But I do have these opinions. I mean, I think we’re like cogs in a wheel. I’ve concluded that we’re like cogs in a wheel. Do you think we’re like cogs in wheel?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Oh, yes, I do.”
“I think we’re like cogs in a wheel,” she said. “For instance, do you think that women should work? I’ve given that a lot of thought. My opinion is that I don’t think married women should work. I mean, unless they have a lot of money, of course, but even then I think it’s a full-time job to take care of a man. Or do you think that women should work?”
“What do you think?” he asked. “I’m terribly interested in knowing what you think.”
