It was no wonder, there was no money to buy food for the house. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. White rang the bell. Brendon was silent. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet.
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