As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. “A man who does not touch his wife, who ignores his wife, what kind of man is he? I am not sick any more.
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