Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof. ‘Madame, I trust I see you well?’ ‘Merci. “If I were to marry now,” she said, “it would be with a sense of humiliation. “She must have character. We'll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis. She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. “Useless—worse than useless. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. One day she awoke and he was cavorting about underneath the covers.
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