She was shifting, moving back. Katy had sneered at her for a moment, their eyes locking. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. Through that she had to go. He recalled with exasperating perplexity her clear, matter-of-fact tone as she talked about love-making being unconvincing. But this is the first time I ever sailed on any one of the three. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face.
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