‘Not in the open street. Your pets are gone. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. Let's get one idea into our heads. Wood turned to look at him. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. He stared at her breasts while he touched them. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. They were very nice about it, in memory of your father. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing.
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