He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. Our quarrel's quite over. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned.
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