She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. She attended to that, and then dismissed it as unimportant. A woman cannot change her soul. ” John gave her a tour of the expansive house, which had a pool in the backyard and gorgeous gardens that she could tell that Carol Diedermayer did not have a great deal to do with.
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