Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. Their doors stood open, and placards with big letters indicated the section assigned to each. ” “You have been to her?” he asked. She felt the warm nearness of his. “I would like to go home,” she cried, “to please her. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself.
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