She remained stonily in the middle of the hallway until the spinsters' door shut them from view … for ever. “You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her.
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