081413 #worm In one, a young lady lounges in a claw-foot bathtub. Her legs blush primly through soapsuds, to cast a rosy glow against the porcelain. The bookseller will be home soon. He will remove his glasses; they will clank lightly on marble. He will look at the young lady in the mirror. Her backwards, red-headed smile is arch. His stubble is roguish. They will stare at each other.