“You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. Part 6 Most of the things that he had planned they did. You can test it out on us this Thanksgiving Sunday. ” “God, Lucy, you’re always so serious! I was only joking!” She pulled her underwear on and fiddled with the legs of her tight jeans. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. Why wasn't the world full of love, when love made happiness? Why did people hide their natural kindliness as if it were something shameful? Why shouldn't people say what they thought and act as they were inclined? Why all this pother about what one's neighbour thought, when this pother was not energized by any good will? Why was truth avoided as the plague? Why did this young man have one name on the hotel register and another on his lips? Why was she bothering about him at all? Why should there be this inexplicable compassion, when the normal sensation should have been repellance? Sidney Carton. E.
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