” 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. She advanced, stabbing at him. Melusine ran up the stairway after him, her point flailing to frighten him into allowing her access to the chapel. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. White Sears special-order orthopedic shoes, polyester pants, and cotton print blouses were her usual weekend attire.
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