She hunted the markets for bread and treats so they could feast during the day. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Things got hot and heavy in the car the next night, and he peeled off her skirt and top to reveal her underwear. Wood, leaping from the bed. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting. You went even to our rooms and saw my sister.
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