At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop. That would not help her. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. “He just wants to get laid, you know. She has no proof—yet. “Marriage certificates don’t tell lies, at any rate,” he said. An incredible road he had elected to travel; he granted that it was incredible; and along this road somewhere would be Desire. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. ” She played with her hair. . "But your dreadful projects will recoil on your own head.
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