She floated into the room, looking like Cinderella before midnight.

He didn't know how to use a tap!

She tried to calm it down but it just continued to flap and quack.

He suffered from boyish idiocy.

Sometimes she grew so angry that she thundered.

She urged him to leave her--to go to London and amuse himself: when he left her she smiled, when he returned she smiled.

It wasn't going to be easy but she knew it would be worth it.

He gathered his strength and will, and won the fight.

She missed the way he made her laugh at the silliest things.

Perhaps naively, he hoped fervently that his young son would be spared the rigors and horrors of war.

But she strove to reason herself and laugh herself out of such imaginings.

He sank slowly through the dark water, arms out, feet pointed: like a Christ, or a dervish, casting a benediction on the sea.

She had her demons, and she wrestled with them most of her life.