She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. "I believe he's gone," he said, returning to Jonathan. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. You shall behold him. She recovered herself, however, with amazing facility. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. ‘I must. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable.
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