A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. Modern, indeed! She was going to be as primordial as chipped flint. “You see,” she said, very gently, “I AM going. ” He drew a little nearer to her. He stood up abruptly and went to the window. ” “Act two,” she continued. It’s best. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be.
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