"To be sure I will, my child. “My heart, my dove, I only want to heal you. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. He was angry. Were I to let you go, you'd say I feared you. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased.
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