And it’s no use thinking he’d stop her. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. Meat pies with sweet crust were stuffed with macaroni, steaks of pork and beef were pounded thin and grilled rare, capons had been marinated in plum wine and cinnamon, and veal sausages stewed in cream were served over fine noodles: all the dishes that he loved were present.
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