"Never mind me. To hell with me. You’re in love with her, and the girl isn’t a peeper. She isn’t even sane. How much of her are you in love with? One tenth? What part of her are you in love with? Her face? Her subconscious? What about the other ninety per cent? Will you love that when you find it? Damn you! I wish I’d let you stay inside her mind until you rotted!" She turned away and began to cry.