’ She flounced back to stare out of the window again. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. Sebastian, too, seemed to be immune, even though cats, dogs, and beasts of the suffered just as the humans did: blackening and dying, their eyes rolling, their bodies covered with bald buboes. She almost sprang to her feet. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. Die, indeed! We’re going to do work; we’re going to unfold about each other; we’re going to have children. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. ” She shrugged her shoulders. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. I have brought disgrace upon you, and I haven’t been the right sort of wife at all.
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