And after that Alice became remoter than ever, and, after a time, ill. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “My wife. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. "I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter. He was always drawing contrasts between a woman’s lot and a man’s, and treating her as a wonderful new departure in this comparison. Things happen out this way. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. She was finally dead, going to Hell.
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