Edwin Austin Abbey paintings

Edwin Austin Abbey paintings
Edward Hopper paintings
Edgar Degas paintings
Anastasia sat half-turned on the leathern couch, hiding her face in its arm and her own. I sat down to apologize for any hurt I'd done her feelings unintentionally; but as soon as I touched her hip in a conciliatory way, she flung herself upon me and wailed into my chest that she was the unhappiest woman on campus, and wished herself passed and gone.
I was freshly confounded. "Then you aren't angry at me for teasing you about being sterile? Itwas thoughtless."
She sniffled into my jail-coat that she knew I hadn'tmeant to be tactless, and that anyhow her infertility had been attested by Dr. Sear to be psychological rather than physiological, and thus perhaps not a permanent condition. She drew back to look at me, blushing and grave. "Human women don't haveheats, You know, George -- I remember Maurice telling You something silly about that at the Powerhouse -- but we're supposed to haveorgasms, and for some reason I don't. Kennard says there might be a connection between that and not having babies."