I Took The Red Dress Down And

She’ll Have No Lover, For I Don’t Want Her And She’ll See No Other.

I'm No Use To Anybody,' I Say. 'i'm A Cérébrale, Can't You See That?' Thinking How Funny A Book Would Be, Called 'just A Cérébrale Or You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming'. Only, Of Course, To Be Accepted As Authentic, To Carry Any Conviction, It Would Have To Be Written By A Man. What A Pity, What A Pity!

When He Talked His Eyes Went Away From Mine And Then He Forced Himself To Look Straight At Me And He Began To Explain And I Knew That He Felt Very Strange With Me And That He Hated Me, And It Was Funny Sitting There And Talking Like That, Knowing He Hated Me.

Not That She Objected To Solitude. Quite The Contrary. She Had Books, Thank Heaven, Quantities Of Books. All Sorts Of Books.

Stephan Was Secretive And A Liar, But He Was A Very Gentle And Expert Lover. She Was The Petted, Cherished Child, The Desired Mistress, The Worshipped, Perfumed Goddess. She Was All These Things To Stephan - Or So He Made Her Believe.