His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. And this though he was evidently passionately in love with her. “The thing I feel most disposed to say, Miss Stanley,” he began at last, “is that this is very sudden. ” 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. ‘Tell me, my boy.
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