To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. The door popped open with a sigh. He hated himself a little for it. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour. She had to have him, her body was going crazy for the want of sex. Distress, deep-rooted, and age old. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction.
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