‘So it was. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair. She twisted to meet him and folded into his embrace.
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