" "By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity. “Now listen. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep. A cup of lies. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. I had to stay in school no matter how sick I was.
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