woman wearing a hat like a mother pancake carrying its baby pancake on its back, who stopped beating a gray mouse of a donkey with panniers full of cabbages in order to have a good laugh. And then they were off along the road that was like a road through the sky, running above silver-gray clouds, the tops of olive trees, falling away to a still sea of intense purple blue that held other clouds, clear-colored clouds of peacock blue and turquoise.
"Joe, come to breakfast!"
Sunlight poured into the room. Their big bed under its net was like a white waterfall. On a table covered with a cloth in checks of pink and pale pink was the breakfast tray, edged with Evelyn's shade hat, a package of cigarettes, some books, and a drinking glass holding a spray of lemon blossoms, as a glacier is edged with rocks it has pushed before it. On the tray lay Kate's fat letter, straining the seams of its white waistcoat.
"Isn't it wonderful how they enamel these cast-iron rolls to look like real ones? Have some honey?"
He watched the thick gold thread spread into a pool, spin thin.
"Let's go in bathing in that cove we found."
"Let's! More coffee, Joey? Joe-y! I'm speaking to you!"
He kissed the inside of her outstretched arm; with a groan he pressed his closed eyes against it. Kate's letter was knocked to the floor and lay there unnoticed.
