That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Give him his medicine every half hour. On the orders of Mr Jarvis, that were. “How will you live?” she appealed. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. When they made love, he seemed to shift into the realm of possessiveness. It was interesting to see how different and characteristic his mode of approach was to all sorts of questions that interested her, and it was amusing to discover this other side to the life of a Morningside Park inhabitant. Mr. Miss Mary being his only child ’an all, he were in a right pelter. . . If so I shall have to leave.
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