Think better of it. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. In response to an almost imperative gesture from the nurse, Anna laid her hand upon his. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. His smile faded. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined.
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