She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. Without her, it was lonely.
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