She felt wary, she was so convinced that a trick must lurk in this particular assignment, but then she thought, Oh why be vain? After all, he’s only trying to teach me to be less so, and she screwed up her face so tightly that he laughed. After today, she thought, I won’t bother to come back. As for his face, it had gone pale, unhappy. He made her think of a boy who was so bitterly bored that he wanted to hurt something. He said, “How old are you anyway? Fifty?” She stared at him, astounded. The one thing about her looks that she was sure of was that she looked young for her age. Perhaps even too young. “I’m thirty-seven.” He came over to her and placed his hands on her hips to guide her through a series of steps, showing her how to put her full weight (and trust) into one foot, the other foot, then he asked her to hang her hands on his shoulders as he steered her around the room. It was almost like dancing, it was so formally warm and measured, it was like dancing in a room filled with sunshine in a Russian novel set out in the country.
What do You think about Excessive Joy Injures The Heart?
