Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. ” 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. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. To have spoken lightly on such a subject a few hours ago would have seemed incredible.
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