The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. "To be plain, then," said Winifred, "he has asked me whether I have any objection to you as a mother. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. ’ His face changed, all the humour and tenderness leaving it in an instant. "She was mine before you ever saw her. But they cut it all off. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. This is not what I want. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come.
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