” She laughed heartily, and became as suddenly grave. Manning, I do not think I love you. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. ‘Move, you. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. She might even forgive him. Goodbye. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it.
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