The man was my husband. It is not a dissipated face. We are amiable to one another, but we don’t mix. They stood back together and stared at it. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. His pipe hung dead in his teeth, but the smoke was dense about him. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. All at once her heart began to patter queerly.
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