He probably imagines himself to be a thousand times worse off than he actually is. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. His arms slipped around her waist as they were on the doorstep and he kissed her lips sweetly. “Perhaps that is only sleeping,” he said. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then. “So, since when does a grown man have to sneak behind the Laundromat to smoke a cigarette?” She asked 115 him. One could go to him and tell him one loved him.
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