He found himself growing hoarse yelling over the music, but it also situated him to lean towards her to put his hand on her ear to aid her hearing. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. He caressed her tenderly, with no trace of the Sebastian who had previously knocked her off her feet with a slap across the mouth. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. "Surely," she said, after a pause, "you don't attach any importance to what my mother has just said.
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