We left the center, had a coffee, and went back to our cars. Something was on her mind, but she didn't tell, and I didn't ask, too personal, I thought... She hesitated, toyed with her car key nervously, spoke of plenty of time, and would like to have a drink or two in my new apartment. Back home, I opened a bottle of red wine, and we talked about everybody and his dog. Eventually, Bea brought up stories of school, focused on our last year, when guys and gals tried to hook up with me in her. "Take this peach, then," she said. The count again refused. "What, again?" she exclaimed, in so plaintive an accent that it seemed to stifle a sob; "really, you pain me."A long silence followed; the peach, like the grapes, fell to the ground. "Count," added Mercedes with a supplicating glance, "there is a beautiful Arabian custom, which makes eternal friends of those who have together eaten bread and salt under the same roof." I know it, madame," replied the count; "but we are in France, and. More

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