175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. Too much, perhaps. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. I want to make my own selection. "If you loiter in this way, old Wood will catch us.
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