She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. ” Ennison laughed softly. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. It was for ever. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. “I am exceedingly sorry,” he said. She wished he could smoke and dull his nerves a little. Never really thought about Him—people don’t. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. It's my way when I'm ruffled.
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