” 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. ‘But I’m hanged if I know why you find it so amusing. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. ‘So are you. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. But, go and see who it is, love. “You must tell me the truth, please.
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