u.”

    “Darling,  you just no you ed to get married as soon as possible?”

    too  you’re in the wrong.

    “I  t of me. tears and encouraged by trut came to mind, I said:

    “All righen, shall I never be married again?”

    “t for t take you far from me. or, would o live his house?”

    I fell silent. e bot my fat a son-in-lao live ogetifle  belittling of t to be t wife no more.

    “it a fatuation, you kno getting married is practically impossible, don’t you? I don’t  you to get married, and I refuse to grant you permission to do so—”

    “I don’t  to get married, I  a divorce.”

    “—because some tless beast of a man

    you. You know  you, my dear S finishis book.”

    I said noto speak—prompted by tell my fat to  I kne nig  befit a o admit t s  h a slave girl?

    “ t s to marry you?”

    I gazed at t, not out of embarrassment, but out of anger. And recognizing tent of my anger, but not being able to respond in some manner made me even more furious. At t juncture, I imagined my fat ridiculous and disgusting position. I ears when I said:

    “tove, I don’t  it to burn.”

    I crossed to taircase, t looked out onto ting ttress  open and lay doo lie do of tears like a cised! And  is to kno I’m tude, only you, wo my aid.

    A  Orretc upon my bed. s. I sa oo. Pulling o me, I held him.

    “Don’t cry, Moter. “Faturn from the war.”

    “how do you know?”

    ans I forgot my oirely. Before I cuddle up e Or me confess my