After a few days of the basics, we adopted a system of informal story-telling, wherein I would relate a lengthy "story" in English -- often a more-or-...ess true, if not-necessarily-exciting, incident from my past. Then Margarita was obliged to repeat the story back to me, in whatever mixture of English and Spanish she could manage. The Spanish sometimes proved necessary in order to communicate the fact that she had actually understood what I had just told her.As the days went by, she was more. " Well, well, well. I have to confess that I thought of what happened yesterday, and I couldn't stop it from running."Suddenly she climbed the bed and lay down beside me. She supported her head on her right hand and elbow, and looked down on me with a loving smile."Erik, I don't know what's happening to me. To us. I have never loved you as much as I do now." She reached out with her left hand and caressed my hair and my cheek. Then she leaned down and kissed my eyes. "I've been thinking, while. More

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