” Anna was thoughtful. Prison was beastly. Much more temperate; the discreet and joyless love of a virtuous, reluctant, condescending wife. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. ’ Gerald eyed her.
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