‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom. “What have you been doing since our last talk? Still cutting up rabbits and probing into things? I’ve often thought of that talk of ours—often. Priests and princes sought his knowledge of languages and philosophy and wantonly tried to throw themselves into his bed. ” “Give me something to do,” said Ann Veronica, interrupting her persuasions at last. He returned, sitting on the floor beside the couch adoring her and stroking her bare arms. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. It’s an instinct. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
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