Now they were all drawn in and the part of her mind
that had responded to them felt numb.
She ignored this sensation, or rather this absence of sensation, as well
as she could; just as one might ignore the creeping approach of
paralysis. She had an unacknowledged reason for going to the library and
beginning that historic study of costumes. Certainly the sight of those
quaint old plates ought to set her imagination racing again.
But it didn't work that way. She found herself poring over them,
yawning herself blind over the French legends that accompanied them.
(They were nearly all in French, these books, and though Rose had done
two years' work in this language at the university and passed all her
examinations, she found these technical descriptions of costumes
frightfully hard to understand.) She stuck at it, though, for a long
while, until one morning a comparison occurred to her that made her shut
the folio with a slam. It had been in just this way, with just this
dogged, blind, hopeless persistence, that, ages ago, in that former
incarnation, she'd tried to study law!
This was too much for her.
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