" IV. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. Admire her as much as you choose—at a distance. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. I wonder. At once there came an answering knock. “Time for my Patience,” she said. When he awoke it was late in the day, and raining heavily. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smothered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments.
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