She opened the door, turned around, took his hand and very lightly brushed it with her lips.
He stood there stupidly, not knowing what to make of her behaviour.
"What does she mean ?" he exclaimed, returning to the room, putting the furniture back in place and smoothing the disordered carpet.

"Heavens, I wish I could as easily restore order to my brain.

Let me think, if I can.

What is she after?
Because, of course, she has something in view.
She does not want our relation to culminate in the act itself.

Does she really fear disillusion, as she claims?
Is she really thinking how grotesque the amorous somersaults are?
Or is she, as I believe, a melancholy and terrible player-around-the-edges, thinking only of herself?
Well, her obscene selfishness is one of those complicated sins that have to be shriven by the very highest confessor.