“Do you mind very much?” He shook his head. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. But I don’t wish to hear that abomination on her lips again. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. “Nice sleeve,” she said, and came to his hand and kissed it.
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