My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. There was a short, red-faced, resolute youth who inherited an authoritative attitude upon bacteriology from his father; a Japanese student of unassuming manners who drew beautifully and had an imperfect knowledge of English; and a dark, unwashed Scotchman with complicated spectacles, who would come every morning as a sort of volunteer supplementary demonstrator, look very closely at her work and her, tell her that her dissections were “fairish,” or “very fairish indeed,” or “high above the normal female standard,” hover as if for some outbreak of passionate gratitude and with admiring retrospects that made the facetted spectacles gleam like diamonds, return to his own place. Larry Beck did his best to the flares of her temper from rising. I don’t want a family in the suburbs and Christmases at the Florida house and summers at the Hamptons. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul.
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