He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. He moaned. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child. I'm not particular what or where. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger.
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