'
She disliked him for this sudden relapse into weariness and
faithlessness.
'But don't you think me good-looking?' she persisted, in a mocking
voice.
He looked at her, to see if he felt that she was good-looking.
'I don't FEEL that you're good-looking,' he said.
'Not even attractive?' she mocked, bitingly.
He knitted his brows in sudden exasperation.
'Don't you see that it's not a question of visual appreciation in the
least,' he cried. 'I don't WANT to see you. I've seen plenty of women,
I'm sick and weary of seeing them. I want a woman I don't see.'
'I'm sorry I can't oblige you by being invisible,' she laughed.
'Yes,' he said, 'you are invisible to me, if you don't force me to be
visually aware of you. But I don't want to see you or hear you.'
'What did you ask me to tea for, then?' she mocked.
But he would take no notice of her. He was talking to himself.
'I want to find you, where you don't know your own existence, the you
that your common self denies utterly.
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