It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. “Of course we go to school. John knew better. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. But the fall was too great, and he abandoned the attempt. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. We have seen pitted cheeks, which we would not exchange for dimples and a satin skin. ’ ‘Please forgive, milor’, but my wife, and even I myself, have yet very much trouble with English. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good.
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