She had taken two bites before she stopped eating and looked around. She was the consummate actress.“Where’s Bernadette?” she asked.Harvey looke... around.Marian looked nervous. “Isn’t she still in the bedroom?”“No. Her bed was made when I got up.”“Didn’t you talk to her when she got home?” asked Harvey, looking alarmed now.“I fell asleep,” said his daughter, no trace of guile on her face. “When I woke up I thought she’d already gotten up.”Marian rushed to the bedroom, already trembling, while. It should have come a lot easier now that she was at the height of her career, but the pain involved in writing even the lightest, most innocuous verse proved too great a task. Sometimes it came, and sometimes it didn’t. Her willingness to learn and be inspired by other people’s work felt like mining for minerals that never materialized, or at least digging into coarse, rocky soil if only to build muscle and stamina but not much else. She felt as desiccated as an autumn leaf, no inspiration. More

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