A vast indifference settled down upon him. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. ’ ‘Ah, that is easy,’ she began, laughing. He stood transfixed. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. “But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to.
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