The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. “I’m not that beautiful. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Wood was once a favourite of yours. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. “You are really a good Samaritan,” she declared.
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