The wooden cock she had carved herself was still in her hand as she drifted slowly off to sleep. The striped skirts lay in a heap at the foot of the m...ttress and the shirtwaist hung loosely on her tall frame. Somewhere during the night she woke up enough to get rid of the rest of her clothes. After that she slipped under the thick furs lined with cotton that served her as blankets. Next morning Deirdre shivered as she crawled out of bed. The fire had died and it felt as if the temperature had. If he had done what she did, she would have cried and yelled about how he just wanted to hurt her and running away wasn’t going to solve anything and now she had done that exact thing. Their sex life was unworkable. That much was now clearly obvious. Unsalvageable. Two people under one roof with two completely separate ideas of intimacy. How had they lasted this long. He was losing his whole life. She had turned away from him and walked out of the room. An overwhelming sadness descended over. More

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