’ ‘But Marthe, this is idiot. For a time she furnished the flat. He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. Stanley poured wine. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths. His frowning gaze came back to her. How plainly he could see the patch of garden in the summer sunshine and the white hollyhocks nodding above the picket fence! ***** Ruth sat waiting for the half hour, subconsciously. Come along home, Ruth. You want to think for a time, to be free for a time.
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