It probably still wouldn’t help. She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. ” 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. Towards night, however, he ventured out, and walked on towards London. Anna was suddenly very quiet.
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