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Updated: May 5, 2025
His taste in books showed a width of divergence between them that nothing could ever bridge; seeing her with "Fruit Gathering" which the schoolmaster had lent to her, he asked what it was. "It's by Tagore," she ventured. "Tagore? Never heard of him," he said dismissively. In the fly-leaf of the book was a beautiful portrait of Tagore. She showed it to him, remarking that he was the Bengali poet.
"Do you think I ought to let my hair get longer? This coffee is so good." "Long hair is a pain," Willow said dismissively, although she was proud of hers and brushed it thoroughly every day. "With your body, who needs distraction?" "I don't know. I look so conventional." This was dangerous territory. Amber was, in fact, conventional.
Isabelle flicked a wrist dismissively. "You're not missing much." "You're right about the sunsets. Wonderful." They drank to Hawaiian sunsets. "So, Joe, you heading back soon?" "Tomorrow afternoon, Isabelle." He was beginning to like her. "Come on over; we'll have a drink and listen to the Queen sing Aloha Oe. " She held his eye for a moment. "Maybe I'll do that.
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