That was the true marvel of it. ” She was silent for a time, with her nose on the pillow, and that brought her to: “What’s the good of pretending? “I love him,” she said aloud to the dim forms of her room, and repeated it, and went on to imagine herself doing acts of tragically dog-like devotion to the biologist, who, for the purposes of the drama, remained entirely unconscious of and indifferent to her proceedings. ‘I have told you, a whip it is nothing. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially.
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