"You tried to do something that was fine, and … and civilization would not let you. But you could have just as easily lost your womb in the Pestilence, and your life. ” He stood still, looking at her. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. "A little. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb.
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