“Well?” she asked, sharply, “What was your third qualification? Beauty, I suppose?”
“No,” he husked out. “No… I… I’m not… I want a girl who will love me.”
“Well, I can see how that would be a problem,” she said, her voice sharp. “You are so picky. Why would any girl…?” Then, when he didn’t respond, she said, “Look at me!”
“Well?” she asked, sharply, “What was your third qualification? Beauty, I suppose?”
“No,” he husked out. “No… I… I’m not… I want a girl who will love me.”
“Well, I can see how that would be a problem,” she said, her voice sharp. “You are so picky. Why would any girl…?” Then, when he didn’t respond, she said, “Look at me!”
He looked up.
“Loving her husband is a wife’s job!”
“But… some marriages…”
“Some people don’t do their job well,”
And some people don't do their job well.
Truer words were never spoken.