Henry was enraged to think of the useless suffering he had experienced, to see that truth (though remaining mysterious) was a profound relief from his years of blind-bat suffering. It became horribly clear that all the experience June had hurled at him she had not really given to him, in the truest sense, because by her lies she had cheated him of knowledge. Henry was floundering, desperate, bafoué, cocu, in a maze of deformities, lost as a man and as an artist; and yesterday a woman gave herself for the first time to him by truth. That was marriage. Man giving woman his strength and vision,
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