She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. A few random students gawked at them in the hall. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. "I hear you plotting with your wicked associates," cried Mrs.
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