She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. How to hold her, how to keep her at his side; this was the problem with which he struggled. Surely he was imagining this picture.
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