125 wivesbehavingbadly

i really imagined i had cracked the problem of the furture when oi offered nathna the alternatives to habits of a glossy body , hot blood , excitement , and ( to quote rose ) a comfortaing gaze . i pictured our life together like postacards : fireight winter scenes with snow outside  : sunny uplands , with fragrant hay baled in neat lines . i had imagined , too , that tenderness and laughter lasted .
i snatched up my bags and keys and found myself in the car , driving down the street , telling myself i had no idea where i heading .
i lied .
as i approached the river , i lowered the window and smelled the slime and sludge of low water . the city unraveled before me " dorty , assured and industrious , new buildings springing up like dragon's teeth in every emtpty inch . this was the city i admired and melted into . it hustled and bustkledd : unsentimental , indifferent , surviving the knocks . it did not crave love .
there was a parking palce outside rose's flat , and i slid the car into it . turning off the engine , i drooped my head into my hands . i considered what i was doing , i considered swithching th engine back on and driving away . i considered how badlly spies were rated in the food chain .
after a while , i raise my head . the building on which i was focused was a tiny , pretty flat-fronted georgian house with large , very clean windows .
and there was rose . framed in the window of what appeared to be the bedroom of her ground - floor flat talking to someone in a black linen skirt and tiny jacket to which was at tached a fake camellia corsage .