She took her hat from the peg in the corner and began to put it on. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. ” Lucy added, growing weary. Other phrases returned now, like echoes. The poor boy, wanting his empty coat! The incident, however, caused her to review the recent events. What you would look upon as immorality is here merely an established custom, three thousand years older than Christianity, accepted with no more ado than that which would accompany you should you become a clerk in a shop.
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