How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. He took her hands firmly in his and raised them to his lips. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. When Sheila was in a good mood, one almost enjoyed her. “I am afraid,” she answered, “that one’s friends can judge only of the externals, and the things which matter, the things inside are realized only by oneself— stop. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. It was an easy one to smell early on, Sebastian had taught her: anything reproductive.
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