And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. Wood. Then Capes shifted his eyes to her microscope and the little trays of unmounted sections beside it. However, confession of a fault makes half amends for it.
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