He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. “Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. Nothing but the constraint of social usage now linked him to her. Oh, yes; of Ruth herself he knew much; but the more he mulled over what he knew, the deeper grew his chagrin. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 10:30:01