Although she didn't suspect it, she was so close to her destiny at that moment that she could have reached out her hand and touched it. But all unconsciously she continued to stir the fudge.
"I've always thought that women have a poor time of it compared with men," she nodded to herself. "Still, perhaps it's the way of the world, like … like children have the measles … and old folks have to wear glasses."
She put the pan on the sill to cool and stood there for a time, looking out at the campus, dreamy-eyed, half occupied with her own thoughts and half listening to the conversation behind her.
"There oughtn't to be any such thing as private property—"
"Why, Vera, if he kissed you in the dark, you couldn't tell whether he was a man or a girl—"
"—Everything should belong to the state—"
"—No, listen. Kiss me both ways, and then tell me which you think is the nicest—"
A squeal of laughter arose from the bed and, turning, Mary saw that one of the girls was holding the back of a toothbrush against her upper lip.
"Now," she mumbled, "this is with the moustache … Kiss me hard …"
"The greatest book in the world," continued the girl with the spectacles, "is Marx's book on Capital—"