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. It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship. I could not dream of loving you. "Suppose we go and have tea? I'd like to take you to a teahouse I know, but we'll go to the Victoria instead. She felt the whack from about six feet away, kitty corner.
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