‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. ’ Roding looked struck. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. He scooped up Michelle’s unconscious body. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. ” 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. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story.
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