Edward Hopper Summer Evening painting

Edward Hopper Summer Evening paintingEdward Hopper Room in New York paintingEdward Hopper Night Windows painting
stops, covered in guilty fluff. "Believe me. I'm the one."
One night, _out of the blue_, she let him, she said she believed. He married her before she could change her mind, but never learned to read her thoughts. When she was unhappy she would lock herself in the bedroom until she felt better. "It's none of your ," she told him. "I don't want anybody to see me when I'm like that." He used to call her a clam. "Open up," he hammered on all the locked doors of their lives together, basement first, then maisonette, then mansion. "I love you, let me in." He needed her so badly, to reassure himself of his own existence, that he never comprehended the desperation in her dazzling, permanent smile, the terror in the brightness with which she faced the world, or the reasons why she hid when she couldn't manage to beam. Only when it was too late did she tell him that her parents had committed suicide together when she had just begun to menstruate,