” He said. I don’t know. Can you kill yourself?” He asked quietly. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. ‘Of course. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things.
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