All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. But I will disappoint you. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. His grip twisted her wrist. I have been stupid and foolish. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. Sophie'nin hikayesi, tutkusu ve yaratıcılığı sayesinde nasıl bir başyapıt icat ettiğini gösteriyor.
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