We have played at a little mild lovemaking again. ” 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. That was an admission all right. I want to do without that for a time. It depresses one, you know. pglaf. She is the wife now of another man.
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