“he said to her.She smiled and took a deep breath, reaching for a handkerchief in her pocket. She was too busy trying to master herself to repeat her thanks.They were almost at the Corcorans’ house and they did not speak again until arranging what time she should return to take him home.The visit was just what Joseph needed: the warmth of welcome, the familiar rooms with their memories of the past, old pictures, old books, chairs that were long worn into the shape that held his body.The French d...oors were open to birdsong in the garden, even though the air was growing cooler. There was a comfort about it all that put mistakes in perspective.Corcoran was delighted with the goblet. He held it up to let the light play on its satin surface. The beauty of the gift captivated him, but far more than that was the fact that Joseph had chosen it and given it to him. He set it in the middle of the dinner table and his eyes kept going toward it.Over dinner with Corcoran’s wife, Orla, they talked of matters other than war and tragedy: timeless ideas and the beauty of poetry, music, and fine art that outlasted the storms of history.Afterward, Orla excused herself, and Joseph and Corcoran sat alone in the twilight.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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