She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. ” His arms were around her. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. ” He sat like a man turned to stone. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. ” She laughed. You do not love your husband, you have married him for a position —to escape from—things which you feared.
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