” 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. And experience was slow in coming. He made a quick movement towards her, but she did not flinch. I did not choose to mention my knowledge of this fact to your worthy father; but you may rely on its correctness.
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