She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. "What do you want fot that coat, friend?" asked Jack, as he came up. Marriage was a taboo subject between them. A skeleton was propped against the mantelpiece. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. Much more temperate; the discreet and joyless love of a virtuous, reluctant, condescending wife.
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