She should be lifted out of her narrow little life, and it should be all owing to him. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight. How can you say such things? You’re too young to be married, and realize this: you’re not ready. I wouldn't touch the stuff for all the pearls in India. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles. John knew everybody, it seemed. For a long time neither spoke again. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane.
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