“So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. ” “What’s our lot?” asked her sister. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. ” 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. It is what I have done.
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