She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. F. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. “The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. You were content, and I came to thrive on your happiness. Why should they be? She and Ramage were friends, very good friends.
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