She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. ” She was silent for a time, with her nose on the pillow, and that brought her to: “What’s the good of pretending? “I love him,” she said aloud to the dim forms of her room, and repeated it, and went on to imagine herself doing acts of tragically dog-like devotion to the biologist, who, for the purposes of the drama, remained entirely unconscious of and indifferent to her proceedings. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. As a consequence of its small size, it was possible to get along with the work on a much easier and more colloquial footing than a larger class would have permitted. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially.
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