The New Yorker Fiction by Doris Lessing July 7, 1997

“Look at him,” says Helen. “I don’t say anything, and I go on looking.”

“What does he do then?” asks Mary, gazing at Helen as she so often does, as if Helen had the secret of something or other.

“Then he gives in,” says Helen, and laughs. The laugh, as always, takes Mary captive, and this time it seems to reverberate right through her, and Helen seems to be remembering something delicious, for she sits smiling.

Helen is the Greek wife of Tom, who is English. He saw her in a taverna in Naxos, where she was waiting on him and on the other foreign tourists as if she were doing them a favor, and he fell in love and persuaded her to return to England with him. Not entirely foreign ground to her, because she has relatives in the large Greek and Cypriot community in Camden Town, and she visited them one summer. Mary is the English wife of Demetrios, and she was with a girlfriend on holiday in ándros when the handsome waiter in the café overlooking the sea fell in love with her. He, too, has relatives in London. Now he is a waiter in a Greek restaurant called the Argonauts; and he intends to have his own restaurant soon. He will call it Dmitri’s, because Dmitri is what Mary calls him. Meanwhile they live in two rooms over the grocery owned by Helen’s Tom.

Loading...

未加载完，尝试【刷新】or【关闭小说模式】or【关闭广告屏蔽】。

尝试更换【Firefox浏览器】or【Chrome谷歌浏览器】打开多多收藏！

移动流量偶尔打不开，可以切换电信、联通、Wifi。

收藏网址：www.dd123.cc

(＞人＜；)