"Well, how goes it?" he asked. “I’ll be here at one in the morning. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. And it's a maxim of universal application: or, at least, of universal practice. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. “What have you been doing since our last talk? Still cutting up rabbits and probing into things? I’ve often thought of that talk of ours—often.
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