She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. A discreet husband would leave the dispensation of his bounty, where women are concerned, to his wife. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour.
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