1. But, indeed, he’s very human. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. You may enjoy your pride, your arrogance—in a coffin. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. There must be ways of getting rid of him. “Homely?” “Well, yeah, that’s what he said.
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