There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he
concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh
chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very
beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in
peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. Without turning or looking in his
direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows
upon her knees. It would be difficult to find another human being subjected to so
many angles of attack as Spurlock. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her
their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their
psychic leftovers. Even the stars were strangers. Her anger parlayed with her
confusion, as she realized that the new marriage was
about as optional as the first one and her hunger was
growing inside her like a weed. In fact he was thinking of other things. The child
has sprung into a youth; the youth has become a man; the man has already begun
to feel the advances of age. What would happen when next
morning she returned to Morningside Park?
He couldn’t turn her out of doors. She
got up early, and walked about the garden in the dewy June sunshine and revived
her childhood. He
leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers.
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This video was uploaded to casualcorneroutlet.net on 04-07-2024 05:00:07