Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen. ” 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. Like the Valades, I imagine. At least for one moment, it was. I don’t want a family in the suburbs and Christmases at the Florida house and summers at the Hamptons. The room in which this interview took place had a sordid and miserable look.
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