John. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her. He would read the jokes and illustrate them; and after a time I could see the point of a joke without having it explained to me. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. “Mere sensuality.
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