Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. The world, she discovered, with these matters barred had no particular place for her at all, nothing for her to do, except a functionless existence varied by calls, tennis, selected novels, walks, and dusting in her father’s house. Why do I want him so badly? Why do I want him, and think about him, and fail to get away from him? “It isn’t all of me. ” She removed some posters from a chair, and seated herself coolly.
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