"Even if you do succeed in achieving full sypathetic identity with the woman in this painting, even if you become that woman, you will still feel th... same urge as before." "What?" I asked. 'What urge?' is what I meant to say, but I wanted to concentrate on this new identity, to feel the woman's fingertips as my own, to become that which I so devoutly desired and so relieve myself of that desire, to achieve a perfect union with that woman portrayed in the painting. Gleyre understood me. ”“Well, if no one else is volunteering, I’ll come keep you company,” Allison said. “It’s an awfully big bed to be alone in.”“Appetizing as that idea is, I really have to study.” I kissed Lissa and Allison stood next with her lips puckered. I stepped back a step and Lissa kissed her. Allison’s eyes flew open.“Oh!” she squeaked. “Every time I tell myself I’m not going to do that again, I get pushed off the wagon.” We laughed and I gave her a quick peck.“I’ll call you and Melody later to say. More

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