" "I will—I will," replied Wood hastily. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. ‘Jacques?’ ‘No. Love lives on a higher plane.
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