So it is."
"And no Teresa either?"
"And no Teresa. I'm Teresa."
I didn't understand it at all. I fixed my eyes upon her, and tried to
make out which of us was taking leave of his or her senses. But she
went again to the table, searched about for something, came back to
me, and said in an offended tone:
"If it was so hard for you to write to Boles, look, there's your
letter, take it! Others will write for me."
I looked. In her hand was my letter to Boles. Phew!
"Listen, Teresa! What is the meaning of all this? Why must you get
others to write for you when I have already written it, and you
haven't sent it?"
"Sent it where?"
"Why, to this--Boles."
"There's no such person."
I absolutely did not understand it. There was nothing for me but to
spit and go. Then she explained.
"What is it?" she said, still offended. "There's no such person, I
tell you," and she extended her arms as if she herself did not
understand why there should be no such person. "But I wanted him to
be... Am I then not a human creature like the rest of them? Yes, yes,
I know, I know, of course... Yet no harm was done to any one by my
writing to him that I can see.
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