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linen dress which somehow expressed her depressed mood.
After lunch she played cards with Helene Lillitos, who
was bored. She found the other woman quite pleasant, out
of the company of Marie-Louise. Helene seemed to make an
&
nbsp; effort to be polite to her. Kate had noticed that she always
wore black or lavender, and wondered if she were still
mourning for her husband. But Paul Lillitos had died
several years ago, so perhaps it was just that Helene knew
that the sombre colours suited her.
Occasionally, Helene’s slight French accent was tinged
with an American twang, which reminded Kate of her usual
residence in the United States.
She asked Helene where she lived when she was in
America, and Helene explained that she had two homes.
“An apartment in New York and a little place in the hills
in California. New York used to be an exciting place, but it
is becoming a nightmare. One hardly likes to go out after
dark, and never goes out alone.” She shuddered. “So many
of my friends have been mugged—you know?—robbed in the
street. It is incredible that such things happen in such a
civilised city.”
Kate asked her about California, and Helene went on to
describe her other home. “In the spring and autumn it is
beautiful, but it is too hot in summer.”
“The Americans call autumn the fall, don’t they?” Kate
asked.
Helene laughed. “Yes, the fall.”
“It is such a descriptive word,” said Kate. “It conjures up
falling leaves, the dying summer, everything.”
