He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society. Then she saw him. She liked to cook even though normal food was not nourishing to her. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. They had always gone without because of their secret lifestyle. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything.
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