‘I think you’ve gone stark, staring crazy. ” 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. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. He was inclined to be a good-natured person, and he had no nervous fears of receiving a snub. How am I supposed to rent an apartment when I cannot legally buy cigarettes? I couldn’t use you.
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