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Firstly, she did not intend to marry at all, and particularly she did not mean to marry Mr. “There is a secret. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. She was the first to hear another car approaching from the street, an odd occurrence in an elementary school lot that had been abandoned for the weekend. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. “I’m next, Mr. “Your arrival is really most opportune.
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