On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. I’m a man, and I know what I mean. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. . Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. Oh, I know. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. They are blinded to all fine and subtle things —they look at life with bloodshot eyes and dilated nostrils.
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