The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. As the wedding neared, she bought some finer things: a veal roast for supper, a single pearl for the dowry. “Here goes for the new life!” “Here goes for the new life,” he echoed and stood up. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. “It may not be just and so forth, but, after all, it is how things are. She and her husband have no children and ten computers.
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