Jason Weiser

It wouldn't be fair to ask her to share his...

his poverty.

She might feel one way now, but without her coats and shoes, she would grow to resent her life with him, and then grow to resent him.

He loved her more than that, and wanted more for her than that.

Miss Thousandfeet, for her part, knew that Longbody wasn't like all the other men.

But that was precisely what all the other men said before they became like all the other men, according to everyone she had talked to.

He would expect things of her, she knew, and pleasing him would be as impossible as keeping dirt clean.

He would grow to hate her for not being able to keep his long coats clean as he crawled underground, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Both had heard that everyone was talking,

and knew how the other felt.

They didn't say any of this because they both felt none of it needed to be said.

These were facts.

The biggest and most consequential fact of all being that it was over.

Parting beneath the bridge, one left the other, never to see them again.

Longbody never married.

He had many offers, but no one ever shined as bright as Miss Thousandfeet.

He spent the rest of his years toiling in the darkness, alone, growing his wealth and leaving piles of it to nobody upon his death.

The same gossips that encouraged Miss Thousandfeet that Longbody was a terrible match immediately excoriated her as an ingrate who should have focused on the good parts of Longbody's character instead of finding fault, and they all agreed that it served her right that she was alone.

Miss Thousandfeet, though, didn't care.

She never wanted to marry.