He expected her to reply immediately, and he braced himself for what he thought would be a violent reaction. Instead, it was quiet in the room and the quiet seemed to be heavier than the sound of the storm outside. Then, after a while, he heard the tinkling of a bottle against a glass. He turned away from the window and looked toward the center of the room.
Mildred was sitting at the table. She was pouring herself a stiff drink. She was sitting there comfortably with the drink and a cigarette. She was bent forward just a little so that her plump elbows were on the table, her tremendous breasts jutting out like a shelf above the table, her back slanting down straight along the spine until it made the start of the big bold swirling roundness, very heavy, very round, balanced with the rest o
