The two were in the bedroom, where they hadn’t gone before. —And now we are going to try something. Please, go, stand there by the window. Stan went and stood by the window. A light fell now on the front of his face and shoulders. —Would you mind, she said, putting on this jacket? It was one of these very light jackets that aren’t really for wearing outdoors, and have buttons like those on a shirt. This one was grey. —All right, he said. Is this for me? He put the jacket on. It fit quite well. —It is, she said. —Thank you. Loring watched him there a moment. —Keep looking out the window, she said. Don’t turn around. She was wearing unusual clothing: a Chinese style shirt that buttoned on one side, in muted but iridescent green like a fish seen in muddy water; a pair of broad khaki pants; and her hair was tied up in a kerchief. The matter is confused, but becomes clear when one sees the photograph that she then took out of her pocket. In it, she, a younger woman, is wearing the same clothing, the Chinese shirt, the pants, the kerchief.
