'Don't you think the understanding of a flea is more interesting than
the understanding of a fool?' she asked.
'A fool!' he repeated.
'A fool, a conceited fool--a Dummkopf,' she replied, adding the German
word.
'Do you call me a fool?' he replied. 'Well, wouldn't I rather be the
fool I am, than that flea downstairs?'
She looked at him. A certain blunt, blind stupidity in him palled on
her soul, limiting her.
'You give yourself away by that last,' she said.
He sat and wondered.
'I shall go away soon,' he said.
She turned on him.
'Remember,' she said, 'I am completely independent of you--completely.
You make your arrangements, I make mine.'
He pondered this.
'You mean we are strangers from this minute?' he asked.
She halted and flushed. He was putting her in a trap, forcing her hand.
She turned round on him.
'Strangers,' she said, 'we can never be. But if you WANT to make any
movement apart from me, then I wish you to know you are perfectly free
to do so.
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