Fabian Perez paintings

Fabian Perez paintings
Francois Boucher paintings
Frank Dicksee paintings
don't know why you wish you were dead," I observed. "Stoker isn't cruel to you any more. And he could inseminate you artificially if you can't conceive in the normal way. Out in the barns, we --"
She shook her head. "I don'twant to have a baby! Not by him. George. . ." Her expression was awed. "There's something wrong with my ."
Recalling that Stoker had expressed a similar apprehension, I asked her what might be their trouble.
"I don't really love my husband!" she said, as if frightened by her own candor. And then all reticence left her; in a tearful rush she confessed herself more flunkèd than I supposed. Her lack of love for her husband, she declared, was not new, and had nothing to do with his pleasure in seeing her serviced by other men, not to mention women, dogs, inanimate objects, and Dr. Eierkopf's eggs, Grade-A Large; the truth was, she had never loved him; indeed, she feared she'd never lovedanyone - - male, female, or whatever