" "I will obey you, master,—indeed I will!" implored Jack, seriously alarmed at the carpenter's calm displeasure. ” 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 sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. She wanted to think.
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