“There was a keg, hash, LSD, pot, you know, the usual. 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. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home. I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years. This man was her husband in the eyes of both God and man. Now tell them why.
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