I don’t care what else there is in the world. I drew out what I had saved and boarded the first ship out. The hurricane appeared to have raged in this quarter with tenfold fury. ” 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. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it.
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