Devotion by Howard Norman

of this project night
and day,” he said. An exaggeration he desired to be plain fact. “Can I show you some of Sudek’s photographs later on? In a book, I mean.”
    â€œYou know what? I think I’ve seen a few. In a museum. It may have been here in London. He likes to photograph eggs. Eggs and glasses of water, is that him?”
    â€œThat’s Sudek.”
    â€œI remember an egg with a crust of bread. He might’ve gone without food some days. In childhood. During the war. Did he?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œI guess you haven’t researched that part yet.”
    â€œI’ll definitely look into it.”
    â€œDo you take a lot of photographs yourself?”
    â€œSince I was in grade school.”
    â€œAre you a professional, though? Along with the teaching you told me about? Not that teaching isn’t enough. Just naturally curious.”
    â€œI’ve sold a few photographs. Not often. I consider myself a serious photographer. I have two Nikons. But my favorite is a Rollei—a Rolleiflex with an
f
/28 lens. It’s the kind with the viewer on top, you look down into it, like this.” He demonstrated by pretending to snap a picture of her. “All three cameras paid for in full at time of purchase.”
    â€œSo, you take photographs where, London?”
    â€œMainly Prague. I’ve been to Prague often. I take a lot of pictures in Prague.”
    â€œMay I see some of those?” Maggie noticed his hesitation in answering her. With the exception of his Sudek tour, ninety percent of the photographs David took in Prague were of Katrine Novak. “Just to see what the city looks like?”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œOnly if you like.”
    Maggie finished half a piece of toast, drank some orange juice. The waitress stopped by, refilled their coffee. “David, I’ve got big news,” she said. “I’m on an expense account.”
    â€œOh, come on. I’m not the starving-artist type.”
    â€œSo what if you were? Why should you pay for something neither of us has to pay for? Let Dalhousie University pop for breakfast.” Maggie stood up. David remained seated. “I’ve got to run,” she said.
    â€œI’m not taking this for granted. Can I see you tonight?”
    â€œTake for granted? Believe me, I’d see that coming a thousand miles away.” The waitress delivered the bill and Maggie signed for it. “The ensemble’s performing tonight, eight P.M. , Queen Elizabeth Hall. Are you interested? I can arrange a seat directly in front of Miss Brockman and her cello.”
    â€œI am interested, but I teach tonight.”
    â€œWhat time is class over with?”
    â€œTen. Maybe ten-fifteen.”
    David stood; Maggie leaned down and kissed him lightly. “Let’s see, there’s the reception. I’m obligated there. This and that. May I expect you in my bed by, oh, say, eleven-thirty?”
    â€œIf they’d give me the key, I’d be waiting in your room.”
    â€œThey won’t,” she said. “You’ll tell me about your class. I’ll tell you about the concert.”
    â€œWorried there won’t be things to talk about?”
    Ignoring this, Maggie said, “Tonight’s our one concert in London. Noon tomorrow, it’s off to Copenhagen. Can you drive me to Heathrow?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œI don’t take it for granted, you know.”
    â€œYou’re so beautiful I can hardly look at you, except I can’t help it.”
    â€œTemporarily smitten, due to a successful night. No matter; I definitely,
definitely
want to feel beautiful when you say it. But I can’t yet. We just met, sort of. Besides, you don’t have to say it. I look in mirrors like anyone. I know what I am.”
    â€œI could meet you in Copenhagen.”
    â€œYou don’t have a wife, do you?”
    â€œWhat?”
    Maggie looked toward