I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet. . Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble.
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