” “Oh no,” said Ann Veronica; “I have some work to do. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying.
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