“One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. 8. She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. I shall want you. Before I met you I never met any one whom I felt I could love, but you have discovered depths in my own nature I had scarcely suspected. ’ She sipped at the liquid in her glass, but her eyes remained fixed, rather unnervingly, on Gerald.
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