Leaving Professor Brookman’s office, Maud bought herself a pretzel with mustard and headed for her art history class in the Fefferman Museum. The figure that held her fast through the hour, although it was not the figure under discussion, was the sculpted waltz in which Rodin had positioned himself and Camille Claudel. She knew nothing of the story. Whenever she looked at it—as she did often—she saw the two of them there, herself and Brookman. He had said he loved her.
