I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place. Jackson and Mr. \"May I come in?\" His bravado was increasing. "Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. He died when I was. As for that, what man ever had? "That's a remarkable young woman," he offered, merely to note what effect it would have. So Ruth found that for a while her eyes were free. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things.
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