’ Exasperated, Gerald glared at her. “A man who does not touch his wife, who ignores his wife, what kind of man is he? I am not sick any more. ‘What started you off, you madman,’ Roding told him frankly, as he set about tying his handkerchief around the wound, ‘was being born at all. " "Then I'll lend a helping hand. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. I went to the theatre that night. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. "Good night.
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