” For a time she sat on a rail before leaving the road for the downland turf. “Mid-thirties. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. ” She shifted again. ” She assented gently. “Quite right,” she said. \"Carry your books for you?\" He asked. “Difficulties indeed. On the way home he was still thoughtful.
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