Волны

           Why,Iask(whisperingdiscreetly),dowomendinealonetogetherthere?Whoarethey?Andwhathasbroughtthemonthisparticulareveningtothisparticularspot?Theyouthinthecorner,judgingfromthenervouswayinwhichheputshishandfromtimetotimetothebackofhishead,isfromthecountry.Heissuppliant,andsoanxioustorespondsuitablytothekindnessofhisfather’sfriend,hishost,thathecanscarcelyenjoynowwhathewillenjoyverymuchatabouthalf-pasteleventomorrowmorning.Ihavealsoseenthatladypowderhernosethreetimesinthemidstofanabsorbingconversation--aboutlove,perhaps,abouttheunhappinessoftheirdearestfriendperhaps."Ah,butthestateofmynose!"shethinks,andoutcomesherpowder-puff,obliteratinginitspassageallthemostferventfeelingsofthehumanheart.Thereremains,however,theinsolubleproblemofthesolitarymanwiththeeyeglass;oftheelderlyladydrinkingchampagnealone.Whoandwhataretheseunknownpeople?Iask.Icouldmakeadozenstoriesofwhathesaid,ofwhatshesaid--Icanseeadozenpictures.Butwhatarestories?ToysItwist,bubblesIblow,oneringpassingthroughanother.AndsometimesIbegintodoubtiftherearestories.