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245 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 1, 2015
Halfway to the orchard there is a squint little spruce that I immediately decided I did not care for, and I told Carl I wanted it removed. But then he showed me how to smear the branches with fat and sprinkle them with seeds, and now every day is a field day for the sparrows. The little tree looks like it has come alive. It shivers and shudders, and wings poke out from it all over. Such a lot of chirping. Occasionally it verges on commotion. I have stolen a march on spring. [179]
I begged him that we might have children.
"You can't have children, as you well know," he said.
It was the worst of anything that was said between us. It left a stain on my soul that cannot be erased. I had hoped that Vigand would remove it.
I had hoped for a caress.
The tantrums I have thrown. [211]
On such an evening, when a blackbird sings from the roof of the inn, and another replies from the grocer Rosenstand's roof, one may think nothing to be lovelier than a little town with its high street and shops, its children and all the homes whose lamps are lit in the windows, for outside the town there is only the very dark land. [216]