It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. "I was about to add," continued Gay, "that my opera shall have no music except the good old ballad tunes. ” She was silent for a time, with her nose on the pillow, and that brought her to: “What’s the good of pretending? “I love him,” she said aloud to the dim forms of her room, and repeated it, and went on to imagine herself doing acts of tragically dog-like devotion to the biologist, who, for the purposes of the drama, remained entirely unconscious of and indifferent to her proceedings. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another.
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