In the beginning it was a dictionary. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. “You must remember,” she said, “that you yourself are responsible for your altered looks. My, um, my curfew. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. E. I keep on thinking of you. Much more temperate; the discreet and joyless love of a virtuous, reluctant, condescending wife.
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