ETHAN FROME
in a cracked custard bowl and the German ivy trained over an old croquet hoop.
When these nightly duties were performed there was nothing left to do but to bring in the tin candlestick from the passage, light the candle and blow out the lamp. Ethan put the candlestick in Mattie's hand and she went out of the kitchen ahead of him, the light that she carried before her making her dark hair look like a drift of mist on the moon.
"Good night, Matt," he said as she put her foot on the first step of the stairs.
She turned and looked at him a moment. "Good night, Ethan," she answered, and went up.
When the door of her room had closed on her he remembered that he had not even touched her hand.
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