Ag wrote him many letters that he never got until after the armistice.

Ag would not come home until he had a good job and could come to New York to meet her.

He had to polish it from morning till night, until finally it began to affect his nose⁠—

It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.

I had a dog⁠—at least I had him for a few days until he ran away⁠—and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.

Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body⁠—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat.