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She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. We were two people with a craving. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. This at once thrilled her and worried her. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. “My mom is making duck. “It jars.
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