“What do you want?” She was frightened.
“I want you to see me, as I see you. Not understand me. Understanding’s rot. I don’t understand you. What in hell do we understand? What counts is seeing. Touching. What we see and touch is part of us.” She stirred.—My words! “You’re part of me ... you ... because I see you there, attached to me like a hand. That’s what I want.”
“You’re a fool. You had better try to understand a little. You don’t know a thing about me.”
“I don’t want to, then. It’s good you called me a fool. That’s the beginning of warmth, and warmth is the beginning of wisdom. Pretty soon you’ll have to blind yourself in order not to see me. You’ll see me, alright. You don’t want to blind yourself?” He went on: “Never another word shall I say about my two appendages ... my simpering Sylvia and my grandiose Sadie. But you’ll touch it all. You’ll see what that life is ... you’ll look at me: you’ll see what a lot’s left over....”
Fanny got up from her chair. She stood blazing. Sudden she laughed and sat down. He came to her and lifted her in his arms. His big body covered her. He kissed her eyes and her brow, her ears and her hair.
“Aren’t you ashamed,” she murmured. “Aren’t you ashamed!”
He placed her back in her chair. They breathed hard. Silence.
She looked at this looming man. He was brutal, she felt him gentle. He was abrupt, she felt him slow like a child. He was big, she felt he needed arms to cradle.
“Leave me alone!” sudden she cried. “I am a lost creature. Don’t pick me up. Leave me.”
He knelt by her chair.