He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. “Mid-thirties.
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