Tessa Hadley Reads Nadine Gordimer
The New Yorker: Fiction
00:00
I Got the Blades in Now, I'll Run in and Get the Blades
He had never seen her outdoors before. She was rather small and finally made for one of them. The cold brought a graining of warm colour to her cheekbones, beneath which her very small face was quite delicately hollowed. Her skin was smooth, the subdued satiny colour of certain yellow wood. He said it didn't matter. When it comes in she said, I can keep a few packets for you. His next week he was away with the prospectors the whole of the next week. On his way home on Friday someone stopped him by standing timidly in his path. "I got the blades in now. I didn't see you in the shop this week, but
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