Subject: exist vitally

From: "Catherine Hendrickson" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 8 Aug 2006 10:29:34 +0530

Now he put on his spectacles and examined the pictures. Butshe had taken it very seriously, it seemed. She was a rather arrogant, abrupt mannered woman inthe thirties.
He took up another volume and opened it at random. Was there anyway in which he could help her?
Her eyes rested onthe writing table behind him.
That year he had been given a minor post in thegovernment. She lay curled up on her side of the bed, likea hare in its form. Was itpossible that he was really Ernest; and that she was really married toErnest?
She had, he supposed, other clothes upon which a pearl brooch would notlook quite so incongruous.
Was there anyway in which he could help her? At last she reached the Natural History Museum; sheused to like it when she was a child.
In the half light, they could see that Mrs.
She sat there dabbing her eyeswith her pocket handkerchief. It musthave been about then that my greatgrandfather was a boy. So it seemed that every Wednesday she went to Whitechapel. Thus time passed; one year; two years of time. Well, if things had gonedifferently, it might have been so. It was cold,with fog in the air, and Rosalind was sitting over the fire, sewing.
He felt that these people whomhe despised made him stand and deliver and justify himself. Suppressing that, he was all the more caustic.
He could still see theglance she cast at him, and how she had tears in her eyes.
He straightened his tieat the looking-glass over the mantelpiece.
She sat there dabbing her eyeswith her pocket handkerchief.
He felt the desire to make images now, sitting by thisquiet woman.
But he could not let her go withoutsaying something about her future.
He remembered how he hated the clothes she wore on those occasions.