I wish Ellen and Nick would be married and get it over with, Christabel thought, turning her hot pillow, listening, to a distant clock strike three. I am sick of them both.
Curtis said Nick always acted as if he were giving the girls a treat, just by existing. She found balm in what he said; she resented it.
She pushed her hair up from her forehead; she turned over again. Her chest ached so that it was hard to breathe. Curtis is right, she thought. Nick is insufferably conceited. She saw in the dark the complacent corners of his beautiful mouth. Conceited, unintelligent, self-centered.
I have been pleasant to him all these weeks. I will go on being pleasant to him, simply because I am so indifferent to him that I can't admit him into the intimacy of rudeness.
She sat up in bed, turned on the light, and drank thirstily. She felt feverish and ill. That
