The 25th Hour 评价人数不足
读书笔记 Chapter 8


She has always known that one day Monty would be arrested or murdered, that he would leave their bed in the morning and not return at night. She could not imagine growing old with him - she could not imagine Monty growing old at all. In her mind she tried to gray his hair, to furrow his skin with wrinkles and put a hitch in his loose stride, but the pictured Monty always shucked off these disguises and grinned at her, free and easy and relentlessly young. He was like a smart boy who has not yet learned to fake an interest in other people. He was careless with the affections of his family and friends. He had always been loved; he never had to work for love.
Monty would joke about their future children; Naturelle never did. She could not imagine Monty as a father. She could easily imagine him impregnating women, but not being a father. The image of Montgomery walking through the park with a baby riding on his back was ludicrous, impossible.


And that was why she loved him, because at his best he possessed more natural grace than any other man she ever met, because some days he performed miracles and didn't even notice.



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