Agnes looks at her husband and suddenly she sees it, feels it, scents it. All over his body, all over his skin, his hair, his face, his hands, as if an animal has run over him, again and again, leaving tiny pawmarks. He is, Agnes realises, covered in the touches of other women. - P259
It’s as if her mother needs London, and all that he does there, to rub off him before she can accept him back. - P276