The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. ‘I am fascinated. It was her distinctive test of an emotional state, its interference with a kindly normal digestion. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment. A girl—at my age—is grown-up.
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