“I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours. “I love you, Ann Veronica. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. On the other hand, there was a subconscious impression that she would be able to read instantly anything unclean in a man's eye. ‘You have said you do not wish to hurt me.
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