‘Now let’s have it. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. ” He stepped back as though he had received a blow. “Should I leave? Sounds like she is running out of food. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. No, this was imbecile. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife.
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