Rhea commanded her. It was below consciousness, elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively. He seemed to avoid meeting Anna’s eyes as much as possible. For nothing will ever convince me that it is not the man’s share in life to shield, to protect, to lead and toil and watch and battle with the world at large. It isn’t. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. I bored him. “Pellissier,” she repeated thoughtfully.
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