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501 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1935
She had often wondered, in a detached kind of way, what it was that Peter valued in her and had apparently valued from that first day when she had stood in the dock and spoken for her own life. Now that she knew, she thought that a more unattractive pair of qualities could seldom have been put forward as an excuse for devotion.4. Consider also: I am not that smart, or that patient. I grew tired of the circling, of the wallowing, of the wondering. Harriet loves Peter, the text tells me again and again (she literally dreams of being in Peter’s embrace and awakens to say, “Oh damn. And I didn’t want to wake up.” HOW MUCH MORE OBVIOUS DO YOU NEED IT THERE, VANE? She has hot-flashes watching him in a punt on the Isis and stands guard over his slumber because whether she will admit it or not it this is a role she had given herself) and yet Harriet flees this clarity again and again—to the point I begin to second guess myself and my understanding of what I’m reading. This doesn’t lend itself to a spectacularly enjoyable experience—am I following along correctly or am I actually an idiot?
He looked up; and she was instantly scarlet, as though she had been dipped in boiling water. Through the confusion of her darkened eyes and drumming ears some enormous bulk seemed to stoop over her. Then the mist cleared. His eyes were riveted upon the manuscript again, but he breathed as though he had been running.I am presuming she means that she ought to refuse him? Send him on his way? But I don’t comprehend Harriet’s reasoning anymore: she has acknowledged that she has misunderstood and maligned Peter and his motives several times at this point, but she continues to refuse to reexamine her obviously spurious evidence.
So, thought Harriet, it has happened. But it happened long ago. The only new thing that has happened is that now I have got to admit it to myself. I have known it for some time. But does he know it? He has very little excuse, after this, for not knowing it. Apparently he refuses to see it, and that may be new. If so, it ought to be easier to do what I meant to do.
"You have a nice throat for it,” pursued his lordship, thoughtfully. “It has a kind of arum-lily quality that is in itself an invitation to violence. I do not want to be run in by the local bobby for assault; but if you will kindly step aside with me into this convenient field, it will give me great pleasure to strangle you scientifically in several positions.”JUST BONE ALREADY YOU HORNDOGS.