Worn out, was he? True,
he showed signs of being tired now at times, but nothing serious. He
was full of old health and unwasted strength, like herself, and in
this autumn of their married life he fulfilled his part at least as
affectionately as she did.
But nothing particularly beautiful nor grand about him? No. And here
came her superiority. Inger might well think to herself at times how
she had seen finer men; handsome gentlemen with walking-sticks and
handkerchiefs and starched collars to wear--oh, those gentlemen of the
town! And so she kept Isak in his place, treated him, as it were, no
better than he deserved. He was only a peasant, a clodhopper of the
wilds; if her mouth had been as it was now from the start she would
never have taken him; be sure of that. No, she could have done better
than that! The home he had given her, the life he offered her, were
poor enough; she might at least have married some one from her own
village, and lived among neighbours, with a circle of friends, instead
of here like an outcast in the wilds.
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