She "wouldn't hurt a kitten," we say; and we
assume that her "striking out a line for herself" is the last thing she
would try to do. Yet such an unimpressive and disarming facade may mask
large chambers of stubbornness and tenacity.
Amy knew how long and hard she had thought of Cope, and she asked for some
evidence that he had been thinking long and hard of her. She desired a
"response." But, in fact, he had been thinking of her only when he must. He
thought of her whenever he saw himself caught in that flapping sail, and he
thought of her whenever he recalled that she had taken it on herself to
select his songs. But he did not want her to make out-and-out demands on
his time and attention. Still less did he want her to talk about
"happiness." This had come to be her favorite topic, and she discoursed on
it profusely: he was almost ungracious enough to say that she did so
glibly. "Happiness"--that conventional bliss toward which she was turning
her mind as they strolled together on these late November afternoons--was
for him a long way ahead. How furnish a house, how clothe and feed a wife?
--at least until his thesis should be written and a place, with a real
salary, found in the academic world.
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