The BathShe adjusted her spectacles and looked at him. With the sponge, which perspired fragrant bath salts, he was now rubbing his thighs and knees. She consulted her watch again. Another hour yet: half for his calves, half for his feet. His shadow on the wall reminded her of a locust. She took off her glasses for presbyopia, put on those for myopia and bent over the horoscope again.
“Lucky number four. Lucky colour yellow. Emotional calm.”
What was his name? Six or seven? Cri-, three; -ton, six. Of course! Two more than Noni.
“Lucky number five. Lucky colour…”
“After your bath I’ll make you a hot cup of tea to help you sleep,” she told him. “Should I bring you your blue nightclothes?”
“Yesterday’s,” he replied and regarded her severely through his glasses, which he insisted on weari
