A marriage in the house proved to be exciting but extremely disorganizing. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. ’ He only laughed. To her chagrin, he ignored her, and turned a venomous eye on his betrothed. .
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