“What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. ’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse. ” 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. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. God help me. ” She stared before her, trying to keep back a rush of tears.
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