. . ' So I go to Patagonia. Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. "Your faults were the faults of circumstances. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. I won't keep you long. He can cure all diseases of the flesh as I taught him. . "I am sorry. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar.
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