She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. “Uh, I think I might, Shari. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. Empty, silly, coarse brutes. " "How do you spell the last name?" He spelt it. Tears sprang to her eyes. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. "I generally take a party. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn.
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