His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand. “How dared you do yourself this injustice?” “I did it for her sake,” she answered. They leave them out of novels—these incompatibilities. She was dressed in one of those complicated dresses that are all lace and work and confused patternings of black and purple and cream about the body, and she was in many ways a younger feminine version of the same theme as himself.
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