It probably still wouldn’t help. You have no grasp upon the essential facts of life (I pray God you never may), and in your rash ignorance you are prepared to dash into positions that may end in lifelong regret. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. It was locked. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. "Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. I’m not ashamed—of the things I’m doing.
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