“You are of the genus obstinate,” he said. A few random students gawked at them in the hall. They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear. “Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish.
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