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Show 30 in the Congregational Church basement and picked up a few pieces of useful knowledge, for example, how you are supposed to get down on your knees before the helplessness of sleep, not before going out to make a buck. But then I saw a white arm on his shoulder, her arm, she sitting mostly out of sight on the edge of the bed and he kneeling there facing her, beside her legs, in her arms, embracing her. Then I knew who his prayer was to and I quieted down and watched them, a curious hush falling upon me while they behaved as if they were alone in the sweet cool morning world, while between us soft and still the liquid sunlight lay rich upon the grass. Then he |uw?e4, said something, turned and walked out of sight. Still I gazed on in the full hush of a small town day not yet awakened. I could see only her white legs, and then her hands came into view with a brassiere, which she slid up her arms. Her hands disappeared. Then she stood and in panties and bra moved out of sight to the closet. Not long married, the couple seemed indifferent to or unaware of anything outside their window and if she didn't realize the morning sun turned her window screen transparent, it was a generous error. Or maybe she didn't care: to hell with all you out there. Yet I kept missing her. Then one morning when I entered the kitchen I saw that I had intruded upon something, my father turning from the window with a grin, as if challenging my mother. "It's a free country, ain't it?" "A little too free." She cracked an egg with a deft but harder blow than necessary, then turned to me. "Are the girls up yet?" "I think so." "Make sure." "Right after I wash." The only sink in the house was in the kitchen and I didn't want to miss this, especially since Mother so obviously wanted |