Rome is the church of Spain. In its arms you will find the true faith, as I am again discovering now that I am returning to the faith of my father," he said, speaking in the gentlest voice she ever had heard him use.
"Oh," she said uncomfortably, "I never knew there were so many things involved in getting married."
"I think it odd that you told Figente before me," Vida accused in the taxi.
"I didn't intend saying anything but he's a mind reader. I haven't made up my mind. I love Nino dearly, but not as a husband. Next to you he is the best friend I have. In fact if he only wanted to be my lover I would let him because I would like to do something he wanted in return for his friendship. But I'm afraid if I married him I would only hurt him if I really loved someone else. You know I'm not good at pretending. But then it seems to me I got off on the wrong track somewhere when I thought if I could learn to be an artist I'd be happier. I guess if you're an artist you are and all you have to learn is whatever technique you want. It's the other way around from what I thought. Then too I really owe it to Mother to settle down with a good husband. I tell myself I ought to marry Nino and if it doesn't work out—well—there's divorce, though I always thought if I married it would be for always."
"If you marry Nino it is for always because Catholics don't believe in divorce," Vida felt obliged to point out. "But I do think he would be a wonderful husband for you, not even considering Mae. And I will come and visit you in Spain and Paris. I can see you as a Marquesa. You'd be the toast of Paris," she concluded gaily, the gnawing suspicion dispelled that Lucy's brooding since Vermillion's departure was because of him.
"If it's for always, I'll have to take time to think about it. But maybe the fact that it is for always may give me something I need to live for," Lucy said desolately.
"And what I need is to get away from Figente," Vida said energetically. "I'm grateful for the library job but I know now what he really wants is someone at his beck and call he can talk to. What I want is to get a job where there are people more my age. His house depresses me, for all its collection of books and paintings. I don't care a thing about first editions and valuable bindings. I prefer dogeared public library books that seem alive no matter how many
