“Oh! please don’t lose yourself in a wilderness of secondary considerations,” she said. For a time he and Miss Klegg contradicted one another. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her.
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