“You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. But men are often blind to rings. He just wants to get laid. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs.
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