“It’s all right,” he said, reassuringly to the inquirer without. "You heard me say it! It was inevitable. Abruptly she got out of bed, smoothed her sheet and straightened her pillow and lay down, and fell almost instantly asleep. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. As though accidentally she swept her skirts from a chair close drawn to her own. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object.
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