You don’t understand. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets. Her evident terror and distress reinforced the tale he told. "Do not go near him, mother," cried Jack; "do not believe him. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features.
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