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Michael Malone - Weebly

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constantly at your side to sneak you into Paradise." She<br />

raised the arms of her white caftan in a parody of<br />

prayer.<br />

He knew she was offering him another chance, but<br />

he didn't want it. He wanted very much to say, "No,<br />

he's my lover," just to see her face, but he didn't dare,<br />

and besides, it was not, technically, true.<br />

"I like him," Saar said. "He's very nice," and<br />

thought, that has to be the dullest remark I've made in<br />

years. "Ah. Thank you, Ernest; looks…very nice."<br />

(What was the matter with his tongue? Could it<br />

articulate nothing but "very nice"?)<br />

"Bien sur." Mrs. Ransom smiled. "I'm sure he is<br />

very nice, and even if he weren't, il est très beau, très<br />

beau. Est-ce que c'est vrai, monsieur?" Her eyes<br />

looked at his for one interminable second, then Saar<br />

smiled, bowed, and walked away. (Hell. Goddamn her.<br />

But, all right, fair was fair, she'd let him know she knew<br />

and done it so that crystallized clone of the Successful<br />

American Male had no idea what she was talking<br />

about. If anything had "turned him queer," why not say it<br />

was the possibility of turning, instead, into Ernest

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