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Making herself a cup of tea, Ruth opened the play and started to read

The party broke up and Armand went into the kitchen Reine-Marie could hear the tap water and the clinking of dishes and cutlery

Then the clinking stopped and she heard only the steady strea into the kitchen, she stopped at the door Ar the counter, as though he was about to be sick

"Are you still going to rehearsal touess I don’t know I … I…"

"I know, me too"

Gabri kissed her good night on both cheeks, then went into the bistro to help Olivier with the last of the evening service Myrna climbed the stairs to her loft apartot into her paja out the , she saw a light at Clara’s ho a shawl around her shoulders, and slipping on rubber boots, she clureen and knocked on the door Then she let herself in

"Clara?"

"In here"

Myrna found her in her studio, sitting in front of the unfinished canvas Peter Morrow stared back, ghostly Half-finished A de sweats and held a paintbrush in her les froh it

"Pizza for dinner?" asked Myrna, picking a mushroom out of Clara’s hair

"Yes Reine-Marie invited me over but I wasn’t really in the mood"

Myrna looked at the easel and knehy Clara had been obsessing over the portrait again And Peter, now gone, was stillto undermine his wife’s art

"Do you want to talk?" Myrna asked, drawing up a stool

Clara put down the brush and ran her hands through her graying hair so vigorously that bits of pepperoni and cru anyh I’ve never painted in my life Oh, God, suppose I can’t?"

She looked at Myrna in a panic

"You will," Myrna assured her "Maybe you’re just doing the wrong portrait Maybe it’s too soon to paint Peter"

Peter seeht smile on his handsome face Myrna wondered if Clara kne very well she’d already captured the man Myrna had cared for Peter very much, but she also knew he could be a real piece of work This piece, in fact And Myrna also wondered if Clara had been adding to the portrait, or taking away Had she beenhim less and less substantial?

She turned away and listened as Clara talked about what had happened To Peter It was a story Myrna kneell She’d been there